


Mr. Reality

by kazaka



Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life
Genre: Act 4 Spoilers, Alternate Ending, Happy Ending, Time Travel, implied one-sided benrey/gordon, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazaka/pseuds/kazaka
Summary: Gordon refreshes the page one last time. It reads:You guys were the bestest friends I ever had.Or: alternate ending to Act 4 wherein Tommy replaces Benrey as the missing link.
Comments: 117
Kudos: 377





	1. Chapter 1

In Xen, things are different. From the unspeakably freakish lifeforms, to the pull of gravity (or lack thereof), to the weight of the air against Gordon's skin - everything is astoundingly different, worthy of boundless scientific publication and Wikipedia articles. And one thing's for sure: Gordon will oversee all of them. He makes a quick promise to God - or whatever entity governs this shithole universe, which could possibly be Benrey (motherfucker) - that he, Gordon Freeman, will not die here today, and in the event of his survival, he will build a whole new wing back in Black Mesa to study the crap out of this science-forsaken place. 

They're being chased by a herd of these creatures, big, spider-legged and spore-spewing, so Gordon elects for the Science Team to take refuge in a small nearby cave. The creatures thrash and ululate as the team duck inside, too large to pursue them, and Gordon groans with relief as he gets a few precious minutes to catch his breath. 

"God _dammit_ , those things are fast," he says between ragged breaths, sinking against the nearest cave wall to give his legs a break. In desperate moments, Gordon thinks it a shame that Bubby didn't cut at least one of his legs off in the midst of betraying him, as a pair of robot boots would be extremely handy right now. It would also be handy if he still had both of his hands, but beggars can't be choosers.

"We should get going, Gordon," Dr. Coomer reminds him. Coomer is incredibly fit, despite his age, and Gordon wonders if he's ever experienced an ounce of physical tiredness in his life. The man was built like a weapon, as was his bloodlust when things got dire. 

Gordon grunts and gets back on his feet. "Just a second, pal," he says, taking in his surroundings. 

The cave is green. Glowing green - the sort of green you're supposed to avoid back on earth. And it's... oozing. The walls and floor are coated with slick green ooze, which Gordon confirms when he lifts up his boot to find strings of the stuff clinging to it. Not enough to stick, but enough to be gross. 

"Gross," he says. "Are your allergies playing up in here, Dr. Coomer?" 

Coomer runs an internal diagnostic. Everything seems to be in order, he tells Gordon. 

Gordon nods and looks around some more. The way forward is narrow, just bigger than a vent, but they'll still have to crouch a bit to get through. Being confined to small spaces was a gamble when it came to the Science Team, especially in Bubby's more-trigger moments, but at least Benrey wasn't here to crack jokes about his ass. He wasn't here, but Gordon could feel that he was close- slight movements in the dark made Gordon think he must be clipping in and out of the cave walls, in all his giant floating glory. _Maybe we should wait it out,_ Gordon considers, looking towards the relative safety of the cave entrance. 

He is about to announce their options to the group when he catches Bubby licking his own slime-drenched finger.

"Jesus, man! Don't eat that! We don't know what that is!" he shouts, as if coaxing a ball out of a dog's mouth. 

Bubby isn't moved by Gordon's instruction. He's rarely moved by anything Gordon says, but it was worth a shot.

"Gordon," Bubby mouths around his finger, "this is Gatorade. A different compound from the stuff back on earth, but still damn good," he says, helping himself to another dollop of not-Gatorade. 

The fact that this barely surprises him anymore worries Gordon, but not enough to stop him from giving it a taste. _Huh._ Yep, that's Gatorade. Do wonders never cease.

What surprises him most about the Gatorade Cave is that Tommy, their resident soda fanatic, doesn't look the least bit excited about being in a cave of the stuff. He's stood in a corner, not really looking at anyone and fidgeting with the hem of his lab coat. He looks like a lost kid in the frozen foods aisle of a supermarket, which Gordon considers to be kind of his standard look, since that's essentially what he is - if you replace the supermarket with an unmarked hostile planet. He likes Tommy, in an endearing, slightly protective way that he's pretty sure everyone who meets Tommy experiences. Hell, even Benrey took a shine to him, and Benrey's literally the devil. 

To see the kid look so meek and alone doesn't sit right with Gordon. He moves towards Tommy, scanning across his frame for any possible signs of damage. 

"Hey, Tommy. You OK, buddy? Did the spores get ya?" Gordon asks. Tommy looks pale as anything when he shies away from Gordon, suddenly stuffing his hands in his pockets like he can't figure out what to do with them.

"Um- no, no. No spores, Mr. Freeman," he says, though it brings Gordon little consolation. Something's up with this kid and it's bugging him. 

"Huh. Right, so no spores," Gordon repeats, still searching for whatever's amiss. "Is there something else? 'Cos you look, kinda..."

He doesn't want to say nervous - Tommy's the bravest of them all - but he can't think of a better word. 

"Like you're going to shit yourself," Bubby chips in. 

Gordon winces. It wasn't as delicate as he'd liked, but at least it got the point across.

"Yeeeah. Thanks, Bubby," he says and motions for there to be silence in the cave. He looks back at Tommy. "Well?"

It takes a while for Tommy to dictate his thoughts, since his words are coming out in little stop-and-starts that Gordon struggles to piece together. He's like that sometimes, difficult to comprehend, but his heart's in the right place and it's always worth hearing him out. It's a moment of clarity when Tommy finally says, 

"I, um. I just. Don't like it here. Can we go back? Please?"

Gordon gapes at Tommy. The cave oozes atmospherically.

"Go- go _back?"_ Gordon stutters, hoping for any indication that this might be a prank. It's not. "Are you for real? We're in space, dude!" he shouts, just shy of hysterical. Gordon doesn't have the time nor the mental capacity for another pep talk, not when they're so _close-_ if he has to carry Tommy on his back through the rest of this goddamn cave then goddammit, he will! He feels a little bad for the outburst, though. Tommy's looking at him like a wounded puppy.

"Perhaps young Tommy should stay here while we traverse this magnificent cave," says Coomer, surprisingly pragmatic. "There's enough Gatorade in these walls to last him at least 25 years," he calculates, lord knows if it's accurate.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Gordon spins around to address the rest of the group. Leave Tommy behind? Seriously?

"The Science Team doesn't split up, Coomer. It'll be dangerous. Benrey's expecting our all and we're gonna give him our all, right guys?" Gordon says, veering into pep talk territory for about the sixth time today. He looks back at Tommy and almost double-takes when he sees how queasy the kid's looking; his eyebrows are knit together so tightly Gordon wonders if he might actually throw up. It doesn't help that the ambient green glow of the cave is giving Tommy a complexion Gordon can only describe as _gravely ill_. So Gordon changes his tune, feeling like an asshole for answering for Tommy when he's clearly thinking otherwise. 

Gordon clears his throat awkwardly. "Uh, that is. If you _want_ to come. Or do you wanna stay here, Tommy? We can pick you up later, I guess," he says, looking at his watch for an indication of what the time is, like he's coordinating a time to pick Tommy up from a birthday party. But time is different in this realm, so there's no point.

Tommy stays silent for a minute and to Gordon's dismay, it looks like he's going to elect to hunker down in the corner for the remainder of their journey. Then, suddenly, Tommy's eyes snap shut and he's shaking his head like that was the worst suggestion Gordon has ever made. 

"No! No, I want to go with you guys," he says, his voice high and frantic. 

Gordon is slightly taken aback by Tommy's indecisiveness - just where the hell was this coming from? - but thinks it sensible not to probe any further, just in case Tommy has a full blown meltdown and they never make it out of the cave. He placates Tommy like he would undetonated C4, backing away slowly and reassuring the kid that this is indeed the best choice.

"In that case," says Coomer, "we should get moving, Gordon. _Jeopardy!_ is on at 8 and it really would be a shame to miss it." 

It's a compelling argument. They flick their flashlights on and peer into the dark, slippery crevice, and Gordon's lucky that the HEV suit comes with one built in, since finding a gun with a flashlight attached is now out of the question. Gordon takes the lead, hunched over and squelching his way into the great unknown. They must be close to whatever crescendo Benrey has waiting for them; he can practically _feel_ the smarmy asshole's eyes tracking them as they inch further into the darkness. Gordon needs to focus, but Tommy's little moment of frenzy floats in his mind like an uneasy itch - something was really wrong with him. Or maybe he just doesn't like Gatorade?

Gordon's train of thought derails when he suddenly skids down a sharp incline, landing atop a net-like cavity that springs underneath him like a trampoline. It barely cushions the fall, and Gordon yelps as his tailbone connects with the ground. God, he was gonna have so many back problems after this. 

"Look, Gordon!" he hears Coomer shouting from up above. "A pit! We can use ropes to- ACK!"

Coomer slips forward and falls likewise into the pit, bringing with him the rest of the disgruntled Science Team. Gordon has precious seconds to roll away before they all land on top of him, a calamity not even the HEV suit could prevent. 

"You all OK?" Gordon says, helping himself up. They seem to be, but he keeps a close eye on Tommy: he's moving a lot more sluggishly than usual, swaying ever so slightly as he lifts himself off the ground. Though it's hard to fault him when he's just fallen face first into a slimy pit, Gordon still feels awash with unease. 

Coomer stands up and pats himself down. "Well, Gordon, I have just shattered all of my ribs. But other than that, I feel super!" he says, and Gordon believes him. 

Gordon pokes around the area for a way out, slashing through nets of slimy Gatorade like a huntsman in the jungle. Bubby tags along as the self-proclaimed 'best pathfinder' of the group, and fires random bursts of M16 rounds into the walls and floor. It's not overwhelmingly helpful, and Gordon worries for their ammo supply, but Bubby prevails when his haphazard spraying reveals a big enough gap in the wall to progress them forward. 

The team squeezes through. What awaits them on the other side is another array of challenges: a labyrinth of cave paths dotted with bloodthirsty enemies, a strange barrel contraption that Gordon's nerves are too frazzled to comprehend, holes, more holes and finally, portals. Gordon looks upon that thrumming void with a feeling akin to hopefulness, though he knows he'll have to fight like a motherfucker for this nightmare to finally be over, to defeat Benrey and get his life back. The team gathers around him, sharing in Gordon's reverent silence for they too know that whatever happens next will be the conclusion to this dog's breakfast of an adventure.

" _You'll never make it,_ " echoes Benrey's voice, circling around them like a phantom. Gordon curses and points his gun-hand to every crevice of the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the son of a bitch, Devil Gun Mode on standby. 

Beside him, Dr. Coomer shuffles in place. "Now, Gordon, it's only fair you know, I am freaking the fuck out," he admits.

It's one of the few moments of human weakness Coomer has ever let Gordon be privy to, which isn't the most reassuring thing, since Coomer and his freak strength are supposed to be the team's lifeline in this chaos. That, and Bubby's innumerable weapons.

Gordon steels himself, locates his inner peace, and makes a running start towards the portal, Coomer and Bubby hot on his heels. 

They emerge in the periphery of what is presumably Benrey's lair, or at least, the entrance to it: a glowing red ball of energy contained within a jagged castle-like structure. Billows of smoke swell and thin out around it, evaporating into the vast space that surrounds them. They leap from floating island to floating island, a stony silence overcoming the team as they near the imposing thing, and the last of Gordon's good will leaves him as a mental slideshow of every single fucking time Benrey has fucked him over plays on repeat in his mind. Passports be damned, Benrey was about to taste the fury of the Science Team.

They encircle the barbed red sphere and watch it for a minute. Gordon can distantly make out the voices of scientists back in the Lambda Lab, and it presses him onwards- the promise of a return to normal life is within their grasp. Coomer has what seems like a small existential crisis concerning _Super Punch-Out!!_ and the reality of things, which Gordon finds himself agreeing with, in a strange way. He's been so caught up in the events of the past few days (weeks? Months?) that a chance to stop and consider the absurdness of it all has since escaped him. He swallows. Can't think about that now, there's a job to do.

Gordon readies his team and they brave it, together. 


	2. Chapter 2

**_"Benrey!"_ **

Gordon manifests in Benrey's evil lair with a splash; red-hot with anger and totally ready to kick the guy's ass. His voice bounces off the jagged stone walls, and Gordon can barely make out the roof of this place - damn, it's huge. Huge and _wet._ Murky water is seeping into his boots which is annoying as all hell, but Gordon puts it to the back of his mind, focus now honed on Benrey, who's slouched in the centre of the room.

He appears surprisingly small. Actually, he looks about regular size. _Must be a trap,_ Gordon reasons. He cocks his gun-hand, waiting for movement. 

"Where's the bravado from earlier, huh? 'You'll never make it' my ass!" Gordon yells. He fires a warning shot that hits Benrey square in the back, but of course, it doesn't damage him in the slightest. He doesn't even flinch.

"Talk to me, asshole!" he spits, unloading a round into Benrey's unresponsive body. Still, nothing. 

Gordon lowers his mini-gun and lets it cool. Exasperated, he looks towards Bubby, who's scratching his head with the muzzle of a pistol. 

"Wuh- why's he so small? What the hell's happening?" Gordon says. He's seen the guy grow the size of planets. He can think of no logical reason as to why Benrey would choose to play _fair_ during their final showdown; this has to be some kind of mistake. 

Bubby shrugs. His glasses are flecked with blood, which makes Gordon wonder if he can actually see what's in front of him. "How should I know? Maybe someone got here before us," Bubby speculates. 

"Or he's playing Sleeping Lions!" says Dr. Coomer.

No, neither were possible. No one followed them here, Gordon had made sure of that. Besides, Benrey had been as spritely as ever throughout their time in Xen: growing, shrinking and reshaping his body with gay abandon. He existed as a living distraction, particularly when it came to travel documentation (the 'p' word, Gordon can barely think it without growing violently angry), and, frustratingly, the fates of their _very fucking lives_. Gordon hates this guy, _really_ hates him. Sleeping Lions or not, he was going to ensure that not a cell of Benrey's freakish body would ever regenerate in this or any other dimension. 

Gordon braces one foot behind him so he doesn't fly backwards upon unleashing Devil Gun Mode, and does so with a bloodcurdling shout, channeling all of his energy into to blow. Bullets- or fingernails, he can't quite tell- fly out of Gordon's mini-gun with breakneck speed, lodging themselves into their target in unrelenting waves. There's a reason Gordon has to press _all_ the buttons to achieve this: it really fucking hurts, so he lets up after a few painful seconds to dip the steaming mouth of his gun into the water below before it can roast his skin any further. 

"Did I," Gordon says, panting hard, "did I get him?" 

"Well..." says Bubby.

There's no good news about it when Gordon looks back up, only to find Benrey unscathed and blinking at his surroundings like a newborn lamb. He inclines his head towards Gordon and co., not looking the least bit bothered by the fresh hell Gordon has just inflicted upon him. Gordon wants to throw a fit, punch a hole in the wall- _something._ It just never fucking ends with this guy. 

"Oh," Benrey says, appropriately monotone. "Hey."

"Hello!" replies Coomer. 

Gordon gawks at Coomer, his nerves completely frayed. "Dude! Don't say 'hello' to him- he's, he's, the enemy! The reason we're stuck here in the first place!" Gordon explains, though it should be obvious at this point.

"Well, there's no need to be so rude, Gordon," Coomer bristles. Gordon laughs brokenly.

"Yeah, don't be so rude, _Feetman_ ," chirps Benrey from across the way. He starts walking towards them, splashing and swinging his arms like it's a day in the park. "What are you guys doing here, anyway?" he asks, stopping a few feet in front of the group. "The roller disco's on Tuesday."

Gordon's not sure what'll afflict him first, it's either heart failure or a stroke. Both seem minutes away.

"Roller d- this is- isn't this the final battle?" he stutters. "The crescendo? The _final act?_ We were supposed to defeat you, dammit!"

Gordon looks to his comrades for support, but finds none. They both look just as clueless.

Wait, both?

He looks between Coomer and Bubby, at where Tommy is supposed to be. Except he's not. Gordon pivots, quickly scouring Benrey's lair for any sign of the kid, just in case he wandered off, lured away by the promise of soda or something shiny. When his search comes up empty, Gordon is swept up in a feeling of dread, like the parent of a lost child in the frozen foods aisle of a supermarket. 

"Where the hell is Tommy," he asks, though he has no confidence that either scientist will be able to answer him.

Bubby shrugs.

"Gordon, I fear Tommy is no longer with us," says Coomer, gravely. 

"Well- obviously!" Gordon sputters, running a flustered hand through his hair, all too tempted to pull it out. "Oh, _Christ_ almighty - did either of you see him come through the portal? He- he was there, right?" 

There's a long pause and a lot of head scratching. How could they have possibly forgotten Tommy? He was _right_ there, and then he wasn't. Gordon feels like a grossly negligent de facto leader, especially considering there's only 3 other members in his goddamn unit. Jesus, what if Tommy really had gone back to the cave? He'd be in a lot more danger back there than here with the team. Gordon mentally berates himself for not having kept a closer eye on him - he _knew_ something was up, but pushed Tommy to keep going regardless. And now Tommy was missing. Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose, completely overcome with regret.

Benrey doesn't look particularly interested in any of this. After all, Benrey wasn't part of the Science Team, he was just Benrey - half-baked security guard and professional nuisance. Benrey looks to his wrist and whistles like he's just seen the time, though he's not wearing a watch. 

"Dang. Gotta pick up _Heavenly Sword_ from my friend Josh. He works at GameStop. And you've already made me late, so... adios, Feetman," says Benrey, brushing past Gordon with a spring in his step. God knows where he thinks he's going, maybe to clip through a wall, but Gordon grabs him by the scruff of his uniform before he can try it. 

"You're not going anywhere, dickhole," Gordon says, dragging Benrey back to eye level. He's overcome with fresh hatred for Benrey when he conveniently remembers that _none_ of this is his fault: it's always Benrey behind the fuck ups, the betrayals, the stupid pranks. "It- it _has_ to be you - what the _hell_ have you done with Tommy?" he rasps, taking Benrey by the shoulders and shaking him, hard. 

"Gordon, stop! Violence won't get us anywhere!" says Coomer, rushing to separate the two. Gordon wonders why he doesn't just punch the smug motherfucker, show him some _real_ violence, but his motivation falls flat since it'd just make Coomer more upset. (He doesn't mention the fact that Dr. Coomer is partly responsible for the extinction of the US military, so if he wants to talk to Gordon about violence, he'll have to join the queue.)

Gordon releases Benrey and steps away, pacing back and forth. "What do you suggest then, man! Tommy is _missing._ And I bet you my entire fucking life savings that this douchebag knows something about it," he says, jabbing an accusatory finger in Benrey's direction. Benrey looks scandalised. 

"If that's your life savings in Playcoins, then that's not very many," says Coomer, frowning. "Remember, Gordon, you're in debt!"

Gordon throws his hands up, completely exasperated. Mentally assessing the situation doesn't help; from whatever angle he views it from, the whole thing seems pretty dire. They're stuck in a hole - no way in, no way out, no _ropes_ \- with the one man who has the potential to crush them if he so chooses, and their youngest (probably) and most beloved scientist is nowhere to be found. If Tommy was here, he'd probably have something insightful to say. It might sound a little dumb at first, but once you unpick the surface layer, there's usually a pearl of wisdom beneath it. _Slower than molasses drips off a spoon -_ Gordon's never forgotten that. 

He's stumped. Both mentally _and_ physically, since Bubby lopped his hand off. He turns back to the group, ready to throw in the towel.

"Guys, I. I'm sorry," Gordon sighs. "I don't know where to go from here, honestly. Maybe if we-"

Gordon's moment of defeat is cut short when he notices that no one is actually listening to him. They aren't even looking at him- they're looking _behind_ him. Coomer is wide-eyed, Bubby's mouth is hanging open like he's just witnessed the resurrection and even Benrey looks mildly interested, which is saying something. Gordon gulps. Whatever was behind him had the power to silence three grown psychopaths, an extremely difficult, near impossible thing to achieve. Gordon fears for his safety. 

Slowly, he turns. 

And there, standing- no, _hovering_ before him is none other than Tommy Coolatta. 

Well, it looks like Tommy. His pinwheel hat remains loyally on his head, tattered lab coat and all, but the main difference is that this Tommy is very much above ground - nothing like the Tommy Gordon knows, who generally chooses to walk. There are two great absences in his face where his eyes once where, from which pours a copious stream of golden light that shines like nothing Gordon's ever seen. There's light in his mouth, too, like he's accidentally swallowed the sun. Gordon has to shield his eyes from Tommy's brilliance, the light bearing down on him like an ant under a laser beam. 

Still, relief floods Gordon to see Tommy alive and well, not cowering in fear in some dingy cave. Even if he does look a little different now.

"Tommy!?" Gordon exclaims, looking at Tommy through the gaps in his fingers. "Jesus- we were so worried! What the hell happened, man? You're flying!" he laughs, thoroughly amazed.

Tommy says nothing. He just hovers. The water beneath him ripples and parts like it's afraid, and Gordon can't really blame it. He must confess that Tommy's not quite as lovable when he's emitting light like an imposing ancient entity. 

"Gordon," whispers Coomer, in awe of what's before him. "I believe our little Tommy is seeing faster." 

Gordon nods, not sure of what to make of it. Was this really Tommy? He briefly remembers how odd Tommy had been acting earlier, but can't think of a way to connect antsy Tommy to this _ascended_ Tommy. Gordon moves forward, hoping to get a closer look without being blinded. 

He makes it one tiny step in that direction when Tommy's head snaps towards him.

 _"Stop!"_ bellows ascended Tommy.

The sound ricochets off the walls and pierces Gordon's ears unbearably - it's like there's six people talking at once, all at slightly differing pitches and registers. Gordon has to cover his ears to stop the ringing. Between the noise and the blinding light, Tommy isn't really a bundle of joy to behold right now, so Gordon abandons his attempt at getting closer for the time being.

Tommy's voice softens when he speaks again - more digestible to the human ear - and it sounds much more like the Tommy known to the Science Team.

"Please, Mr. Freeman. Don't come any closer. I- I need you to stay right there. All of you," he says.

None of them move. All eyes are trained on Tommy's floating, etherial form as it bobs hypnotically in the air. Gordon tries his hand at small talk in an effort to coax the old Tommy to the forefront, but the attempt is ignored - ascended Tommy simply stares at him, face unchanged and spewing light. 

He tries again, desperate for answers. Maybe Tommy's been possessed. 

"How did you get like this, Tommy?" Gordon asks, searching Tommy's brightly-lit hollows for any indication that his question was heard. But still, he gets no answer. Gordon looks back at the other three and shrugs, hoping someone else might take over and try to communicate with Tommy. 

"This is for your own good, Mr. Freeman," Gordon's head whips back around when he hears Tommy speak again, though it sounds stern and cold, nothing like Tommy's usual jubilance. "It's better if you stay here with me. I can- keep you warm and _alive_ and stuff. And, and, in the mornings, we can eat cereal. And when it's raining, we'll tell each other stories. Wouldn't that be fun, Mr. Freeman? To stay here?" Tommy rambles. Gordon's not really following. Quite frankly, Tommy sounds completely unhinged. 

"What do you mean, 'stay here'?" Gordon shouts up at him. "A minute ago you wanted to go back! Remember that?" 

To Gordon's surprise, Tommy hears this, but not in the way Gordon wants him to. 

Tommy nods emphatically. "Yes, stay here. We can't go back, Mr. Freeman. They've sealed the hole between our worlds." His tone suddenly changes. "Oh, I'm so happy, Mr. Freeman! When it's sunny, we can go outside and skip stones. And Sunkist will be there! It'll be perfect," Tommy says. His gestures are looking a little more animated and human now, but it's still unspeakably weird, and Gordon finds himself wheezing with disbelieving laughter at Tommy's disjointed little speech. The threat Benrey once posed is long forgotten: what stands before them now is something unknown. 

The water sloshes behind Gordon as Dr. Coomer literally puts his foot down.

"Now, Tommy, this really is a poor show! False imprisonment is highly illegal!" Coomer scolds him, making his way towards Tommy without fear of whatever he's capable of. "And we will surely perish here with nothing but rocks to sustain our frail human bodies. Not up to code at all, young man," he says, wagging a knowing finger in Tommy's direction. 

And just like that, Tommy is thunderous. Coomer is either stupid or fearless because he doesn't back away, continuing to reprimand Tommy like a disappointed parent.

Tommy's fingers clench into fists as he brings them to his face, teeth grinding. Energy pulses around him, building up in a coil that seems seconds away from unravelling, and Gordon doesn't have time to pull the doctor out of the way before Tommy's bellowing again.

"Not up to... argh! Don't say that!" Tommy covers his ears and howls, knocking Coomer back with the sheer force of his outburst. Gordon can't help but watch as Tommy thrashes in midair, unable to believe that the kid was sent completely berserk by a single phrase.

"You, you- can't say that!" he sobs from above them. Large swathes of his energy disturb the water below, churning it into a rough current that crawls up the length of Gordon's legs.

Coomer's body connects with the opposing wall with a gnarly _thud_ and he slides to the ground, unconscious. Gordon and the others rush to him, calling his name and supporting his comatose body so he doesn't sink into the water. It doesn't take a scientist to know that Coomer is down for the count, so any plans that involve using his wildcard strength to protect themselves are out the window. Gordon looks to Bubby helplessly.

"What the hell do we do now?" he asks, completely desperate. "Tommy's gone nuts, Dr. Coomer's KO'd, what- what should we do? What _can_ we do?" 

Bubby looks between Tommy, Gordon and Coomer's unconscious body, his face blanching significantly. "Gordon, I believe something is incredibly wrong with Tommy."

"Duh," says Benrey. He's crouched next to Gordon and supporting Coomer's legs. "That guy's, like, peeved."

Gordon doesn't have time to tell Benrey to shut the fuck up; his mind is moving at a million miles per hour and Tommy's incessant thrashing makes it hard to dissect a single one of his thoughts. Tommy seems caught up in his own tormented world, muttering things about what is and what isn't up to code while tugging madly at his own hair. Gordon gulps at the sight. Whatever's going on with Tommy is clearly affecting him to the core. 

Bubby clears his throat and adjusts his glasses with a shaky hand. "Gordon, I have a plan. But we'll have to go back. _You'll_ have to go back," he says in all seriousness.

"Wh- how can we go back, Bubby?" Gordon sputters, perplexed at how Bubby even considers this a 'plan'. If Gordon had the power to go back in time, he would of done so already - to find that stupid passport of his and make it so this nightmare never began. It's what he dreams about, actually. That and skeletons. 

He doesn't expect Bubby to pull out the fully workable portal gun they'd swiped from Black Mesa and point it at him. In all honesty, Gordon had forgotten about it. God knows where Bubby had been storing it this whole time.

"You must find out what's wrong with Tommy, or we'll all be doomed," warns Bubby, his finger primed over the trigger. "Godspeed, Gordon," he says, and fires.

The last thing Gordon remembers is the concentrated ball of yellow-green energy careening towards him. Once it hits, he is enveloped by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here are the first 2 chapters of this story! planning to release more incrementally in the coming days/weeks. I hope you like it!


	3. Chapter 3

There is no finesse to time travel, Gordon soon learns. And for good reason. You are literally extracting yourself from the present and elbowing your way into an existence you don't belong to, so time treats you accordingly: like a selfish prick who thinks he can do anything he wants. Time chews you up and spits you out like the pips in a watermelon. And Gordon feels it, oh _hell_ does he feel it - the impact of a lifetime's worth of hangovers rip through him in one go, invisibly bruising each of his muscles like a never-ending kick to the balls. The darkness that once encased him thins, leaving Gordon incredibly tender and groaning with pain, his face pressed into the cool surface of the floor beneath him for any sort of relief.

Benrey, on the other hand, has no such trouble. He makes it look easy. Maybe conventional understandings of time don't apply to him, or maybe he and time have some sort of agreement that prevents his DNA from being whisked like cake mix. Maybe he's not even real. The shortcomings of the human body just aren't good enough for Benrey.

"Wuh, what happened," Gordon croaks, clutching his sides. "Am I... dead?" 

"Yeah," Benrey replies.

Gordon groans, and this time it's not from pain- at least, not physical pain. That is _not_ the voice he wants to be hearing right now. If anything, it makes the interminable ache in his veins even worse, and he's claimed by a fresh wave of nausea. Gordon rolls his head in the direction of Benrey's voice and blinks up at him, vision spotted with what's left of his journey through the fabric of time. 

And he might as well be dead, if Benrey's here. Dead and in hell. Benrey blinks back at him; he's sat cross-legged next to Gordon, chin resting in his upturned palm, observing him like a child might observe a mildly interesting insect. Gordon scrubs a hand over his face, too dog-tired to flinch away or scream for help. He's starting to wonder if he'll ever be rid of this guy, or if they're metaphysically stitched together in some cruel, unknowable joke.

"Haha, joking. You're not dead. You will be, though," Benrey says, deadpan.

Gordon swats a hand at him and rolls over, like he's been woken up too early a Sunday morning.

"Yeah, yeah. You too, pal," he grumbles, scrambling to get his inner bearings in check before Benrey can infuriate him further. 

The events that facilitated this inter-temporal voyage flash across Gordon's mind all too vividly: Coomer out cold, Bubby with the portal gun, Tommy's transformation into some sort of angry celestial being and, above all, his current objective - fix Tommy. Where the hell he's going to start, though, Gordon isn't so sure. 

"Right - the past - Tommy - fuck," he thinks out loud, shaking his head at just how fucked it all is. This would be so much simpler if Benrey wasn't such a lousy final boss. It feels wrong to plot against Tommy.

Gordon sits upright and surveys the area. It looks like Black Mesa, with all its steel-plated walls and grated metal floors, an aesthetic culmination of dull greys and whites akin to a scientific pigsty. He and Benrey are sitting in the middle of a long, thin walkway with automated doors at either end, not too dissimilar from the corridors Gordon is used to, but it looks like there's been a new coat of paint applied to everything. The doors are helpfully signposted: one is labeled [SERVER ROOM], and the other [CANTEEN]. Gordon knows which one he'd prefer to go to - it feels like he hasn't eaten anything in 72 hours, besides the expired peanuts Bubby sometimes shares (reluctantly) - but figures he'll be able to find more answers with access to a computer. Tommy had a knack for them, after all. 

It perplexes Gordon how Benrey fits into all this. Bubby hadn't sent _him_ back in time, unless he'd accidentally been hit by a wayward spike of the portal gun's energy. Or perhaps this was a past incarnation of Benrey, uncannily similar to his future counterpart and just as annoying. Gordon scraps this idea since he doesn't look any younger, though he isn't too sure if Benrey even has the ability to age. Gordon eyes him warily as he staggers to his feet, wobbling in place like he's midway through a pub crawl. 

"Why are you here, Benrey," Gordon asks with a long-suffered sigh. 

Benrey shrugs. "I followed you."

" _Followed_ me?"

"Uh-huh," says Benrey. He stands in one swift motion, almost patronising Gordon with his ease of movement. 

Gordon snorts and shakes his head. Of course Benrey had followed him, the guy can do anything he likes. And apparently, driving Gordon to the point of distraction is the thing he likes doing most.

The extent of Benrey's abilities is hard to quantify - sometimes Gordon thinks he's some sort of God; immortal, tendency towards smiting things, etc. He doesn't even want to think about the skeletons. But, despite all his power, Gordon _has_ seen him die, and he's maybe even killed him a couple of times, so finding a word that best describes Benrey's strength is difficult. Irregular, maybe. Annoying. 

Gordon grips the handrail and begins moving towards the server room, legs not quite steady. Benrey follows like a loyal dog, which pisses Gordon off, because he can think of many incidents wherein Benrey hasn't bothered to be so cooperative.

"Riddle me this, dude," says Gordon as they walk. "You're invincible, right? Couldn't you have- I don't know, _stood up_ to Tommy back there? Used your Sweet Voice, or whatever?" he asks, growing increasingly irate. Benrey shrugs again, as if nothing could be more boring. 

"S'confiscated, bro," he says.

Gordon double-takes. "Confiscated? By who, Tommy?" he asks, a little bemused. He's still coming to terms with Tommy's newfound power.

"None of your beeswax, dude. Geez, you're so nosy. Such a bad friend," says Benrey, voice all haughty in the way Gordon hates most. 

"Well- it kind of _is_ my beeswax, seeing as you _followed_ me all the way here. How can I even trust you?" Gordon rebukes. "And we're not friends, by the way," he adds, a very necessary afterthought. 

Benrey doesn't oblige him with an answer. Gordon hadn't really expected him to, but it infuriates him all the same. Their boots clink against the metal floor as they walk, the dexterity slowly returning to Gordon's numbed legs. _It could be worse,_ Gordon thinks to himself, shielding his poor mind from the fact that it actually can't get much worse than this.

The door to the server room slides open, and Gordon is struck by a wave of familiarity at its interior - they're in the Wikipedia servers, pre-destruction. The computers, primitive and rectangular in shape (Gordon wonders why they don't just transfer this stuff to a Cloud or something, he hasn't seen tech like this used since WW2), are stacked high in their respective rows, blinking and whirring in mechanical harmony. To think _this_ is how Black Mesa gets a majority of its funding, yikes. Could it have been a group of faceless Wikipedia tycoons that facilitated the Resonance Cascade?

"Sweet setup, bro. We having a LAN party?" Benrey says, whistling at the maze of computers.

"This isn't mine, dumbass. It's Wikipedia. We destroyed it a couple days ago- I mean, in the future. Remember?" says Gordon. A happier time, for sure. 

Benrey looks suddenly grief-stricken. "You destroyed Wikipedia? Not cool, man. I got a report due Monday, I needed that."

Gordon scoffs. "You were there!" he says, walking briskly to catch up with Benrey, who has taken to sweeping up and down the rows. "Slow down, dude. We need to keep our eyes peeled. There could be something useful in here," he adds, scanning across the computer trays. 

Gordon's ears prick up when he hears the automatic door slide open again. Next comes the sound of shoes against metal, and it's getting closer- oh, _shit._ Gordon's seen enough movies to know that the first rule of time travel is _don't mess with the past,_ so it's imperative that he and Benrey aren't seen by anyone. Thankfully, they're at the far side of the room and fairly concealed by rows of computers, but Benrey is too busy poking the CPUs to notice that they aren't alone. And, worryingly, he looks primed to make another stupid remark about LAN parties, so Gordon acts fast: he pushes Benrey into a shadowy corner and clamps a hand - his only hand - over his mouth in a preemptive attempt to shut him up.

Benrey _hmph_ s against Gordon's palm, but seems to get the picture when two voices enter earshot. Gordon concentrates, hoping to glean some context from them regarding either Tommy/Black Mesa. 

"It's a shame, really. The project was so promising," remarks one of the voices. This voice is sleek and reverberant, and Gordon swears he's heard it somewhere before. 

"There's still hope, sir," says the other. "We just have to get it talking again."

Gordon squints in the darkness. No, it couldn't be... 

Darnold, head mixologist of the ex-cybernetics department, strides into view, looking a lot younger and less... potion-affected, since Gordon last saw him. He's holding a clipboard and scribbling things on it intermittently, looking very scientific indeed - a quality the Science Team lacks, on the whole. Next to him is a taller man, styled like a bureaucrat in fitted suit and tie. Gordon recognises him, too, but hadn't caught his name in the few encounters they'd shared, so Gordon remembers him best as 'the creepy guy Benrey bugged for a free month on PSN who can also stop time'. It's a work in progress.

"If it cannot speak, then it is of no use to me," sneers the sinister man. "The TOM-E device is intended for intelligence transcription, yet, thus far, it is barely intelligent. I cannot allocate sufficient funding to a project with no results for much longer, Professor. As I'm sure you're aware."

Darnold fumbles with his clipboard and thrusts it towards his sinister associate. "I- I know, but I'm real close, Mr. G-Man, sir!" he says. "If you remember last week's demonstration, he said a whole 28 words on the subject of cacti! A _v_ _ery_ promising development if you ask me, sir," Darnold explains. His associate - one Mr. G-Man, _sir_ \- doesn't look too impressed by this, and pushes Darnold's waiting clipboard out of his line of sight. 

"Time is running out, Professor," says the G-Man, gravely. "And for the last time, don't refer to it as 'he'. It is fruitless to become attached to these... mere gadgets."

Darnold nods and moves hurriedly toward the approaching lab door, swiping his lanyard across the adjoining sensor to grant them access. Gordon watches them carefully, keeping his breathing trained and steady until the door glides shut behind them. Only then does he release his grip on Benrey's face.

"Holy shit," breathes Gordon, the magnitude of that encounter beginning to churn in his mind.

"That was Darnold! And he was with... _that_ guy," he says, feeling generally put-off by the man. Gordon scratches his beard and starts pacing, consumed in thought. "What did he mean, 'device'...?" he muses to himself, assuming that Benrey either isn't listening or doesn't care.

Benrey is uncharacteristically silent, simply looking at Gordon and touching his face where Gordon had pressed his hand against it. He clears his throat and stands up straighter so he can be taller than Gordon again. "Uh, yeah. I hope he got my friend request." 

"What is it about the past that you don't get?" Gordon snaps, turning to face him. "Your friend request doesn't even exist yet. Anyway, shut up. I think we should tail them, see what's going on in that lab," says Gordon, enthused by an opportunity to play secret agent. 

They weave their way out of the computers and approach the door to the lab. It is predictably sealed, and no amount of fiddling with the hinges or sensor can change that, to Gordon's dismay. He can't mow it down with his mini-gun without alerting the two inside, nor can he clip through it like Benrey may or may not be able to. Gordon lets out a frustrated breath and steps back. 

"Dammit, we need a keycard," he sighs. "Maybe if we sneak back into the canteen, we can steal one off someone- c'mon."

But before Gordon can enact operation find-a-keycard, Benrey does something that he's never done before: be helpful. He fishes around in his back pockets and pulls out a lanyard much like Darnold's, but filled with his own credentials and a barcode that grants him access all over the facility - a security guard's privilege. He dangles it in Gordon's face and for a moment, Gordon is speechless, but a smile begins to tug at his lips as he takes Benrey's lanyard in his hands. 

"I could kiss you right now," says Gordon, for once looking at Benrey with something other than genuine hatred. "Thanks, Benrey."

Benrey looks down at his shoes and shrugs. He hasn't been kissed, but he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth as if he had.

"Ew, don't want your cooties," Benrey mumbles. Thankfully, his hand is obscuring his face so Gordon can't see him smiling.

Gordon gets the door open and motions for them both to crouch as they slip inside. They find themselves in a decontamination area that separates the server room and the laboratory, and it must also double up as an observation deck of sorts, as large glass panels give them a clear view of the lab. Gordon spots Darnold and the G-Man gathered around a steel prep table, which is luckily facing the other direction of his and Benrey's hiding spot. The G-Man's back is obstructing Gordon's view of whatever they're looking at, but he can make out a few pieces of the ongoing conversation by cupping his ear against the glass.

"Surely, it can't be defective, not after we... a troubleshoot, then. Rewire the circuits..." says the G-Man in barely-audible snippets. He's looking increasingly unimpressed, eyes flicking coldly over the thing beneath him. 

"This... not up to code, Professor..." he continues, and Gordon's ears burn upon hearing the phrase. 

Darnold gestures frantically and darts towards a nearby laptop, on which are lines of code that Darnold looks primed to demonstrate to the G-Man. But, just as he presses enter, error messages flare across the screen, prompting Darnold to huddle over the computer in a hectic effort to fix it. The G-Man has already left the room when he turns around again, and Darnold visibly deflates.

He looks between his laptop and the thing on the table, pulls a chair up, sits down and shuts his eyes, overworked and exhausted. 

Gordon feels bad for the guy, but he's still a little suspicious, so he stands up while Darnold's eyes are closed to get a look at whatever's on that table. He fears the worst, whatever that may be. And in a way, the worst comes true, because Gordon immediately recognises the thing- no, _person_ laying there.

"It's Tommy," he tells Benrey, his face sheet-white. Benrey stands up to get a look of his own, and sure enough, it's still Tommy. 

"Woah," he says, peering through the glass. "Gnarly, dude. They took his legs!" 

Gordon shushes Benrey and pulls him back down to crouching. He's right - Tommy is legless. More accurately, he's waistless: just a lifeless torso on an operating table. Whether his lower half was _taken_ or not is up for debate, because Gordon's starting to wonder if he ever had one to begin with. 

The giant, hollowed-out space where his lower body should be is Gordon's first indication that this Tommy was likely _not_ organically born with legs. Wires of all colours protrude from his chest cavity like freaky plastic veins; some connect to Darnold's computer, others snake around the room and into the walls. That's when Gordon notices that a handful of wires actually lead into the decontamination room and beyond, to the server room. He and Benrey are stepping on a few of them, which doesn't seem good, so he shuffles to an empty space and nudges Benrey to do the same. But why would there be wire in here? Did they run out of sockets in the laboratory? 

Their attention is back on Darnold when he stirs from his short nap and wheels himself towards the laptop. He gives Tommy's motionless torso a sympathetic look, turning to the computer and typing something in. 

"What is he...?" Gordon whispers, keeping his eyes trained on the Professor. 

The printer to the right of Darnold's desk stirs awake, and out of it emerges an A3 piece of paper with the stock image of a golden retriever printed on it. Darnold takes it from the printer and brings it to Tommy, holding it over his face like he's showing him. 

"Sunkist," says Gordon, snapping his fingers. "I _knew_ it was a JPEG."

Tommy's eyes are eerily opened and unblinking as Darnold presents him with the image. He doesn't react, though. He looks like a piece of plastic. 

"Dog," Darnold says. No response. 

Darnold frowns and reaches inside his desk drawer for something - a roll of tape. He rips a piece off with his teeth, places it on the back of the paper and sticks it facedown on Tommy's forehead, presumably so he can see it when he wakes up- _if_ he wakes up. It's hard to believe that Tommy ever looked like a functioning human after seeing him like this, hollow and dead behind the eyes like an unfinished toy. The whole thing is so bizarre, and Gordon thinks again to the condition of future Tommy. If he is indeed some sort of robot, it might explain a few things, but even robots are limited by such earthly concepts as the pull of gravity, which future Tommy isn't. His cataclysmic outburst and strange appearance seemed more than just mechanical, they were _otherworldly_. Even in his normal state, Tommy seemed too human to be a machine. A machine can't dictate a love of Bayblades or a speech impairment, at least, not a machine Gordon can think of. It's just too real.

And then, Gordon puts it together. The wires, the shit-ton of computers in the server room, Tommy's sheer power yet his propensity for human error- 

Tommy wasn't just a robot. He was _Wikipedia._

The realisation rattles through him like a shockwave, and Gordon braces a hand on Benrey's shoulder to stop himself from falling backwards at the force of it. No wonder the kid was so spacey; he had the world's largest database of information lodged in his brain. Gordon would like to think that he too would fixate on the simplicity of shapes and colours if he had 53 million pages of information to contend with. He remembers how the G-Man had referred to Tommy in their first encounter: his _progeny._ It makes sense now, seeing as Tommy's very being is the result of the unholy matrimony between Black Mesa and whatever corporation was behind Wikipedia. Was he a passion project? A weapon of war? Espionage? The scene playing before them doesn't tell Gordon enough, only that Tommy is decidedly _not_ who he once thought he was. 

"I think I've got it. Tommy is- he's some sort of AI that embodies Wikipedia," Gordon explains, pinching the bridge of his nose at how ridiculous it sounds.

Benrey's eyebrows lift in surprise. "Tommy is Wikipedia? Nahh, he has way too much skin and bones and stuff," Benrey replies. 

"I don't know about that, man. Look at him!" Gordon points to Tommy's hollowed body. "He's empty! And the wires, see - they lead back to the server room. The _Wikipedia_ server room. I don't know why, but they're pumping him full of information," Gordon hisses.

"But you said you destroyed Wikipedia," says Benrey, still not entirely convinced. 

Gordon runs a hand through his unkempt hair, flustered and thinking. "Yeah, I. I don't know. It makes me think that he can survive on his own, without the servers. Wikipedia is the free encyclopedia that anyone can edit, I'm not sure it _can_ be destroyed," he muses, mental cogs turning at full speed.

Gordon's so caught up in piecing together each bit of Tommy's mystery that he doesn't notice the floor begin to shift and churn beneath him. Benrey looks down at it, wide-eyed, and taps Gordon on the shoulder.

"Uh, Gordon, there's something-"

"Shut up, Benrey. Jesus, I'm trying to think," says Gordon, irritated.

There's a hint of panic to Benrey's voice when he says: "I, um. I really think you should look down, dude."

Gordon huffs impatiently but obliges him, only to find that the floor is missing. Completely gone. All that's left is the twinkling void of time and space.

"Oh, sh-"

And just like that, they fall gracelessly back into the clutches of time. No, there's no finesse to it. Only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TOM-E stands for Truth Obfuscation Machine... esquire. 
> 
> (couldn't think of a better 'e' lol - if one comes to mind feel free to lmk. anyway miloves i hope you enjoy! poor benrey. at least he's a little more well behaved)
> 
> (edit: it has come to my attention that Sunkist is a golden retriever, not a labrador! sincerest apologies.)


	4. Chapter 4

One day, on the topic of Gordon's son, Tommy asks: 

"Mr. Freeman, how are babies made?" 

It takes Gordon by surprise - Tommy's very good at doing that, as it happens. It's not something one expects to hear from a thirty-six-year-old _scientist_. But Tommy is kind of an odd duck, and in the short time Gordon has known him, it's quite easy to believe that the kid may not be so clued up on ins and outs of... well, the ins and outs. So Gordon clears his throat and humours him.

"Babies? Well, uh..." Gordon starts, rubbing the back of his neck. "When two people love each other very much they sometimes, um, have a baby," he explains.

It's not the most enlightening answer; turns out Gordon isn't as prepared for this conversation as he once thought. He wants to dad-out and say something like _go ask your mother,_ but that's not going to work considering the ragtag pseudo-family they've formed, of which Gordon is the mother hen. The others are ahead, thankfully - he wouldn't trust any of them with such a delicate subject. 

"Your parents not teach you this stuff?" Gordon asks.

Tommy shakes his head. "No, I don't have any parents," he says.

Gordon stammers a quick apology. It's all too easy to forget his team's individual stories when their whole universe has since been condensed into Black Mesa. Hell, sometimes he forgets what his _own_ home life was like. What was his wife's name again?

Tommy isn't bothered by the slip up. If anything, he looks more intrigued.

"Say, Mr. Freeman, did your son like being born?" Tommy asks.

Gordon gives him a sideways glance. It's a weird note to be stuck on; outwardly childish, yet borderline existential (which sums Tommy up quite perfectly, overall). Gordon doesn't reprimand him for it, though, there's no point. He just chuckles, chalking it up as one of many Tommyisms he and the team find so endearing.

"If he did, he didn't act like it. The kid's got a good set of lungs on him, that's for sure," Gordon says, shuddering at the memory of many sleepless nights. "But he wouldn't remember, dude. No one remembers being born."

Tommy frowns, but before he can say 'that's not true, Mr. Freeman', Gordon's already run ahead, gun trained on the ceiling, ready to dislodge Dr. Coomer from another 'rope'.

The fact is, Tommy remembers being born. He remembers the very moment his existence became a switch-flip from nothing to something, unconscious to conscious. But it wasn't like anything Gordon had described - there were no doctors there to deliver him, no mother to nurse him, no relatives to cuddle. He was alone.

And there was a dog taped to his face. 

Tommy blinked up at that perfect, perfect dog, eyelashes fluttering against the paper. For lack of any other comfort, he imprinted himself onto it like a little duckling - because at that point, he was more aware of the dog's existence than of his own.

Astonishingly, despite just being born, Tommy somehow knew what a dog was. He was actually _extremely_ knowledgeable on the subject, made evident by his first ever conscious thought:

_The dog ( **Canis familiaris** when considered a distinct species or **Canis lupus familiaris** when considered a subspecies of the wolf) is a member of the genus **Canis** (canines), which forms part of the wolf-like canids, and is the most widely abundant terrestrial carnivore... _

Too much. That had been _way_ too much to think about in one go.

Tommy's brain was alive and kicking long before his body was, acknowledging every single molecule of the thing in front of him with distressing amounts of detail. Panic was what kick-started Tommy's instincts into action, allowing him enough feeling in his skeletal framework to rip the picture off his face before he could be trapped by more thoughts of _Canis familiaris._ That's when Tommy first acknowledged his own body.

It was humanoid. He studied his hands, arms and upper body closely, confirming that they were indeed that of a human. He didn't have the strength to sit up and assess the rest of his anatomy, but he was thus far convinced of what it resembled. Much like dogs, Tommy already had an excessive understanding of what constituted a human being, so much so that it frightened him. He did everything he could to prevent the forthcoming wave of information: he covered his ears, squeezed his eyes shut, thrashed his head against the surface beneath him, but nothing would stop it.

So, with all other plans exhausted, Tommy laid still and tried to think of nothing. 

In times of high stress, the human brain will go to ingenious lengths to protect itself from whatever is afflicting it. A scientist would tell you that Tommy didn't have a human brain, that it was more of an awareness confined to a human-esque vessel - a pale imitation of a human brain - therefore whatever defence mechanisms a regular person might employ would be impossible for Tommy to emulate to the same extent. Yet, life finds a way. 

While he laid there thinking of nothing, Tommy's subconscious performed the psychological equivalent of a clean amputation. The neural pathways between Tommy's immediate awareness and the wealth of information stored in his brain were severed, leaving him only his essential faculties: speech, motor skills, memory (though reasonably limited), and emotion. He had regressed into a simpler state of existence, wherein he could only recognise things via rudimentary shapes, colours, sounds, feelings, etc. Nothing was elaborated on. His mind was quiet and locked away. 

Blissful ignorance.

Tommy looked to his left and saw a desk. On it was a computer, a whole bunch of wire and a bottle of something orange. He squinted at the label: _S... un... kist._

Tommy looked back at the dog picture, and was pleased to find that he acknowledged it as just a dog this time, nothing more. He distantly remembered that most living things are given names, and so, he gave the dog a name. 

_Sunkist._

* * *

"...-ordon, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up? Gordon?"

Gordon's stomach lurches in that familiar, time-scrambled way as he blinks awake. 'Timesickness' was what he was going to call it in his memoirs, but _holy hell_ _someone please put me out of my misery_ was the working title as of now. 

The first thing he notices is that he's not in the lab anymore, he's in space, which presumably means he's back in the present. The second thing he notices is that Bubby's face is _very_ close to his own and he's peering into Gordon's eyes like he's lost something in them. It's not the most pleasant surprise, but you know, it's nice to see him. 

"Ah, Gordon! You're awake!" says Bubby, reeling back a bit to let Gordon sit up. "And good thing, too. I was just about to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."

"Easy, tiger," says Gordon, grimacing as he picks himself up off the ground. 

The third thing Gordon notices is that the group _aren't_ where they left off. There was no evil lair to speak of, only what seemed to be pieces of it, floating in outer space like a cluster of asteroids. He, Bubby, Coomer and Benrey (the neo-neo-Science Team, with the reluctant addition of Benrey), are sitting atop a particularly flat piece of broken terrain that's just big enough to accommodate all four of them, but they're otherwise completely exposed. Gordon peeks over the edge and feels immediately queasy - there was no coming back from a drop like _that._

"While you were gone, Tommy ripped the place to bits," Bubby explains. "He's not a happy chappy, Gordon. Not at all. It's a miracle I got us out of there," he says, looking towards Dr. Coomer's still-unconscious body.

Coomer's hands are positioned on his stomach like he's the main event at an open casket funeral, which hopefully isn't symbolic. Benrey is sat beside him, legs dangling over the ledge of their floating island and staring, literally, into space. He doesn't look too bothered about the destruction, which is good, because there's definitely no fixing it. 

"He wrecked it," says Gordon, gulping at the sight. "But, uh, yes - good work, Bubby. Status update on Dr. Coomer?"

"Dead as a doornail, Gordon!" Bubby informs him, perhaps a little too lighthearted for the issue at hand. "And by that I mean, he's asleep."

Gordon nods. It was good to keep track of his team in times like these; he didn't want a repeat of Tommy's cave incident. Coomer would probably be fine. The power he'd absorbed from his many clones kept him in better shape than ever. 

"Benrey, you good?" Gordon asks, crouching next to his time-surfing companion.

"No, I'm bad."

"What?"

"To the bone. B-b-b-b-"

He was fine.

"So, what the hell happened back there?" Bubby asks, motioning to his portal gun.

Gordon lets out a nervous laugh while he gathers his thoughts, standing up and bracing his arms in front of him like he's trying not to startle the local wildlife. This was going to take a bit of careful, eloquent explanation, and Gordon was just the man for it.

"Listen, dude. This is gonna sound crazy, but hear me out. You zapped us back in time, right? I don't know what year exactly but some time ago - 'cos everything looked different - and we were back in the server room, the _Wikipedia_ server room. And- this is where it gets interesting," says Gordon, making sure Bubby is still following. "We found _Darnold_ with this other guy - you wouldn't know him, but he can stop time - and we followed them into a lab, and guess who's there? Tommy! 'Scept he's a robot, and Darnold was building him. Oh, and Sunkist was there too, but he was just a piece of paper - I told you so, by the way - and there were all these _wires_ coming out of Tommy's body, and they lead back to the servers, and basically what I'm trying to say is-"

"Tommy is Wikipedia," says Benrey, looking up at them blankly. 

Gordon's arms drop to his sides.

"Dude, c'mon," he whines. "That was my- ugh, whatever. Yes. Tommy is Wikipedia, _thanks,_ Benrey," he says, crossing his arms.

Benrey sticks his tongue out at him. Prick.

"Oh," says Bubby, adjusting his glasses in wonder. "I would never have guessed. He has so much... skin."

Gordon rolls his eyes. "Oh, Jesus- you too, Bubby? He's not, like, two kids in a trench coat, he just _is_ Wikipedia. It's in his brain, or something." Gordon still isn't quite sure how it worked, but he thinks he's onto something. He has a degree in physics, after all.

Bubby considers this, and his brow furrows. "So then, why is he angry?"

Ah. That aspect of the mission - crucial though it was - had been slightly overlooked during their short time spent in the past. Gordon looks sheepishly towards Benrey as if he might have an answer, but he only shrugs. 

"Er, we didn't- get to that, yet. I figured maybe we could, y'know, ask him," Gordon offers, but the plan's not quite bulletproof. It was a gamble to assume that Tommy would even _listen_ to them in this state. He suddenly realises that there's been no sign of the kid since he woke up, and he looks around for him anxiously.

"Where _is_ he, by the way?" 

Bubby points towards a large rock formation hovering in the midst of the destruction. It's haphazardly formed with pieces of Benrey's destroyed lair to almost resemble a circle, but there are substantial cracks in it, from which dim beams of light escape through. _Tommy._ Alongside the other broken bits of rock, the team's patch of terrain appears to be orbiting the thing, slowly circling it like moons around the axis of a planet. 

"In there," Bubby says. "He hasn't come out since you left, Gordon. You can try and talk to him if you like, but I'm sure as hell not coming." 

"Tommy looks like a chocolate chip," Benrey snickers. "Nice."

Gordon frowns at them both, but he can't blame Bubby for being cautious. Tommy was a live wire capable of all sorts of damage, but they couldn't just _leave_ him like that; the kid was obviously distressed in his current form, anxious and taking it out on everything around him.

Was it _because_ of Wikipedia? Gordon couldn't be sure. The voice that had called for Gordon to stay with it had sounded vaguely like Tommy, but was there even a distinction between the two? Could they be separated, like some Cartesian ghost-in-the-machine? Gordon would figure out a way to perform a Wikipedia-based exorcism if it came to it; he was no stranger to drastic measures.

Gordon rolls his shoulders back and eyes Tommy's makeshift cocoon like he's sizing it up. He'll have to get to it somehow - most likely by crossing the mess of rocks that separate their small piece of refuge from Tommy. Gravity is lower here, so the route is possible, but if he slips up just _once,_ well. It's not an option. 

"Right. OK. _OK._ Phew. I'm gonna go talk to him, then, I guess," says Gordon, limbering up with a few quick stretches. "I'll tell him we know about Wikipedia, and that, uh- it doesn't change anything." Gordon swallows, not certain but hopeful that his plan will be enough.

Benrey claps him on the back. "Don't look down," he says, helpfully.

Gordon scowls at him. They were fighting words, seeing as Benrey could _actually fly._

"Yeah, thanks. Shouldn't _you_ be the one doing this? Huh, Mr. Incredible?" 

"Leave the poor boy alone, Gordon. Tommy will only listen to _you,_ after all," says Bubby. "Probably."

Benrey nods sagely. "Yuh-huh. GTFO, dude."

"Fine. Whatever," Gordon says. "Assholes," he mutters under his breath.

The journey is precarious, to say the least. Gordon finds himself scrambling for his life on more than one occasion, turning around to shout _I'm OK!_ upon each ungraceful recovery. He's not sure why he bothers, though. Benrey is probably laughing his ass off - he'd get the popcorn out if he could. It's like watching a hamster trying to tackle an assault course.

Gordon presses on, inching closer to Tommy with each new rock he clambers on to. It doesn't help that this shit is on an orbit, travelling much faster than say, the Earth would around the sun. It's stomach-churningly disorienting, but Gordon's done enough physics puzzles back in the labs to know how to plan a good trajectory, and does so with relative ease. Who says math isn't applicable to everyday life? 

Finally, he makes it onto a protruding ridge of Tommy's rocky shelter. He catches his breath for a minute, pressing himself against the walls of the thing for a bit of relief. It's sturdy enough to hold him, thank God, and Gordon shuffles around the ledge in search of a way in. He spots an opening a few feet above him and begins to climb upwards, digging his boots into the crumbling stone walls. It's only a small window of space, but it'll do the trick - Gordon just needs to get Tommy's attention. 

While he scales the wall, Gordon wonders how Tommy managed any of this. Even if his power was enhanced by Wikipedia, at the end of the day it's just a website. It has no physical place in reality - well, besides the servers, but they're long gone. Gordon would never have guessed that harnessing the power of an online encyclopedia would lead to so much destruction. If anything, it'd make you really good at spelling bees, but what else? Crosswords?

Perhaps Wikipedia was a front for some sort of military experiment - the two were inextricably linked after all, if it was true what they said about funding. But then, why would Tommy have said all that stuff about stone skipping and eating cereal? Surely an advanced military weapon would have more focussed priorities. 

Did Tommy even know what he was?

Gordon reaches the opening and leans into it, peering inside. 

Unlike its outward appearance, the inside walls are spacious and smoothed out like a crater. It'd probably be safe enough to jump inside whilst maintaining a safe distance from Tommy, but Gordon hedges his bets and stays put, not wanting to get trapped inside like a spider stuck in a sink. 

His focus then lands on Tommy. He's still floating, glowing and looking generally unearthly, but he's curled in on himself like a startled woodlouse, legs brought up to his chest. His hands are plugged over his ears, and Gordon worries the kid won't hear him when he shouts his name. But he does, and uncurls just enough to search around for Gordon's voice. 

"M-Mr. Freeman?" he sniffles. Gordon's heart pangs when he sees that Tommy's been crying.

Gordon waves frantically in an effort to get his attention. "Yep, I'm here, bud! Can you hear me?" 

Tommy nods and turns to face Gordon, but keeps his distance. 

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Freeman, I- I- don't know what's happening," says Tommy, looking at his hands. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no- we're fine!" Gordon replies. He neglects to mention that Dr. Coomer might not be so fine, it probably wouldn't be helpful. This is the most coherent Tommy has been since he _changed,_ so Gordon has to keep the momentum up.

"We're more worried about you, Tommy. Listen - we know about what happened, about Wikipedia, _all_ of it - well, most of it - but you don't need to be worried, ok? We won't leave you or anything like that, just- tell us what's going on," Gordon says, trying to sound as soothing as possible while keeping his voice raised. He leans further into the rift in the wall to stay audible.

Tommy's eyebrows knit tightly. “I... wh, what? Leave me?" he says. His lip is wobbling. "You're going to _leave_ me?"

"Nononono!" says Gordon desperately. "I said we're _not_ going to leave you! _Not!_ If you- if you can come down for a sec, Tommy, we can go meet the others and they'll say the same thing," he says, jutting a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of said others. "Bubby's even got a portal gun, can you believe that! So we can go back to normal - to Earth, Black Mesa, wherever - literally _right now,_ if you like!"

Tommy doesn't look very motivated by the proposal. Quite the opposite, actually. He has completely uncurled, hanging in the air like a limp rag doll, and Gordon doesn't like the darkness that clouds his expression once more.

"Back," Tommy mutters. "You're sending me back. You're leaving me again. I knew it, I knew it I knew it I knew it-"

"No, wait, hold up,” Gordon cuts in. Christ, that was some selective hearing. "I'm not doing _any_ of that, Tommy, listen-"

" _Why_ can't you just stay here, Mr. Freeman? You- you want to send me back, right? So they can do all that _crap_ to me again! So they can screw with my head, fill it with- with-" Tommy clamps his hands over his ears before he can finish. "Stop, please! It's too loud! I don't want to think anymore!" he sobs.

That awful dissonance is returning to Tommy's voice, and Gordon has to bite the inside of his cheek to stay focussed. He doesn't know what to say - all his attempts at reassuring the guy had been twisted into the things Tommy least wanted to hear. He feels like Tommy's lousy stepdad trying to coax him out of his room to go fishing, but the discordance of that scenario is inflated to the nth degree; Tommy looks like he's going to _combust_ if he keeps on like this. 

Gordon tries again, making his voice as loud as he can against Tommy's. "You're not listening, dude! I'm. _Not._ Gonna. Do. That!" he yells.

Tommy seems to reach boiling point. His eyes snap open, glowing harsher than ever and narrowing at Gordon.

" _Go,_ " Tommy snaps. And boy, does Gordon go.

But not by his own volition. The sheer power in Tommy's voice is enough to fling Gordon backwards into the open air, driving him through layers of rocky terrain as he's thrown out of Tommy's orbit. The HEV suit is sturdy, but not invincible, and bits of it fly off on impact. Gordon feels absolutely pulverised by the time he sails into empty space.

Oh, shit. This was that one slip up he wasn't supposed to do. Any minute now, the momentum would stop and gravity would claim him downwards.

Shit. _This wouldn't have happened if you'd just remembered your goddamn passport,_ says a voice in his brain. 

Gordon chuckles to himself. Sounds like Benrey. He'd miss that guy, and it only took plummeting to his death to admit it. Turns out he wasn't so bad in the end, maybe even-

Wait. Voice in his brain?

Gordon cracks one eye open, expecting to see the vast expanse of space. Instead, he comes face-to-face with Benrey. He's no longer plummeting, but neatly hovering in Benrey's arms. It's quite a sight to behold, and Gordon finds himself asking that age-old question:

"Am I dead?" 

"No," Benrey replies.

That's good news, at least.

Gordon smirks. "What happened to 'you will be'?"

"Changed my mind," says Benrey, looking anywhere else. 

Benrey lowers him back to the safety of the floating island Superman style. Gordon dismounts and does a quick assessment of his suit's condition - it's not too damaged, but some panels are missing and it could definitely do with a paint job. Thankfully, he's suffered no head trauma, but there are a few minor scrapes along the sides of his face. He can live with that. Battle scars. 

Bubby is waiting for them, hands on his hips.

"Fine work, Gordon! Just capital! Now Tommy's more pissed off than ever," he says, gesturing towards the crumbling mess caused by Tommy's latest eruption. The rock he's encased himself inside is fracturing, and Gordon's probably lucky he was blown so far back, because Tommy's discordant voice seems to be laying waste to its surroundings - his ears wouldn't be able to take much more. 

"Yeah, well, I _tried,_ " says Gordon. He really had, but still, he feels guilty for coming back empty-handed. Maybe there was something more he could've done - maybe if he'd thought harder, come up with something more than just ill-conceived heroics, Tommy would be back to normal again, safe in the knowledge that this Wikipedia thing was no big deal, they were all in this together. He just couldn't get through to the kid, no matter what he said. 

"It's like he can't hear me. Sometimes he does, but he just picks up random pieces of what I'm saying and takes it the wrong way. It's like he's stuck in his own head," Gordon says, frustrated. He's pacing again, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "There's no point to _any_ of this if we can't actually-"

Suddenly, Gordon gets an idea. He quickly pats down his front and back pockets, looking for something.

"...speak with him. Either of you got your phones with you?" he asks, crouching beside Coomer to check his pockets.

"Uh, no, Gordon. If you had actually attended the Black Mesa Employee Protocol meeting, you would know that mobiles are supposed to be kept in lockers throughout the working day," says Bubby, shaking his head like Gordon has gravely disappointed him. 

Gordon grunts. "I had a doctor's appointment that day. Throat infection. Benrey?"

Benrey does not have his phone. He was at that meeting, too. 

"You ordering a pizza or something?" asks Benrey, who actually sounds quite enthused by the idea.

"No," Gordon sighs. "If Tommy's not responding to our voices, I figured we could communicate with him more directly _with_ Wikipedia. We could- talk through it somehow. Edit an article, something like that," he explains. It was a long shot, sure, but their only other option was to give up, which was _not_ going to happen if Gordon had anything to do with it. 

Then, Gordon feels a hand on his leg. He looks down. It's Dr. Coomer's. 

"Gordon," wheezes the old man, looking into the distance like he's seeing the light.

"Dr. Coomer!" Gordon yells, taken by surprise. "Are you al-"

"Silence, Gordon," Coomer says, pressing a finger to Gordon's lips. "I don't have much time."

The other two gather around Coomer and listen closely like he's an oracle. Gordon isn't so moved - he's just been silenced, rudely - but gives Coomer his full attention anyway. 

"I felt you rooting around in my pockets, Gordon. At first I thought you were looking for the key to the safe, and then I realised that you don't _know_ about the safe, so you must have been searching for my cellular device," says Coomer.

"What safe-"

 _"Shh._ _"_

"Then I remembered that you, Gordon, hadn't been in attendance of the Black Mesa Employee Protocol meeting, therefore your search was not only embarrassing but fruitless, for my cellular device, as you should know, is safely stowed inside my locker," Coomer continues.

Gordon huffs. "I had a throat infection-"

" _Shh,_ dumbass!" Benrey hisses.

Coomer clears his throat. "Anyway, my dear, naive boy, I have a proposition. For the low, low price of 3 Playcoins, I may manifest for you my prized Samsung Galaxy with HD ultra-wide lens," he rasps. 

"That's a steal, Gordon," Bubby advises.

"But- I don't _have_ any Playcoins, Dr. Coomer. I'm in debt. You said so yourself," Gordon reminds him.

"Debt is a social construct," Coomer replies. The others nod thoughtfully. 

Coomer holds his hand out like he's waiting to be given something. Gordon didn't quite get the deal with Playcoins, but if it would grant him a mode of communication between himself and Tommy, he'd go into as much debt as monetarily possible. 

Gordon authorises the transaction, and just like that, the fabled Samsung Galaxy manifests in Coomer's open palm. Gordon takes it in his own, suddenly thankful for Coomer's ludicrous and indiscriminate power.

"That is fucking crazy," marvels Gordon, turning the thing over in his hand. "You're amazing, Dr. Coomer."

Coomer smiles, relaxing back onto the hard floor. "You were always my favourite grandson," he says.

"Coomer, we're not related," says Gordon, confused.

"Oh. Then why do you look so much like my ex-wife?"

Before Gordon can even comprehend these words, Coomer has fallen unconscious again, snoring loudly with his mouth open. His chest rises and falls in even breaths, completely ignorant of the urgent circumstance.

But there's no time to dwell on it: Gordon flicks the phone on and is pleasantly surprised to find that Coomer already has the Wikipedia app installed. Benrey and Bubby peer over his shoulders as he taps it open; Coomer's entire account history is filled with edits of the 'chair' article - Jesus, he could write a thesis on the damn thing - and Gordon almost feels a little guilty when he opens the page and deletes every single word. Almost.

"Here goes nothing," Gordon says, quickly thinking of something to type. He writes:

_hi tommy this is gordon i just wanted to say that despite what you maybe thought i said earlier, none of us here at the neo-neo-science team intend to leave u behind/send you anywhere so pls respond if you see this_

"Nicely put, Gordon," Bubby remarks, frowning at the lacklustre spelling.

"Ask him for his PSN ID," says Benrey.

Gordon doesn't acknowledge either of them. He's staring intently at the screen, looking for any changes or possible additions to his short entry. After about two minutes of nothing, Gordon's beginning to lose hope. He turns the phone off and on again. Still, nothing. 

He should've used Coomer's moment of lucidity for something more practical, like a horse tranquilliser or a helicopter - just _something_ more useful than this piece of shit phone that just so happens to have a very nice camera. Hell, there wasn't even WiFi out here; they were just uselessly typing in offline mode like it was a diary entry. Gordon's many failed schemes are starting to solidify around him and it _sucks._

"It was a stupid idea, anyway," he sighs, completely disheartened and ready to put the whole thing to bed. 

"Refresh the page, you dumb idiot," says Benrey, leaning over Gordon's shoulder to do it for him.

And sure enough, there's an addition. 

_you mean that?_

"He replied!" Gordon near shouts, thrusting the screen towards the others to show them like a kid on Christmas morning. Bubby adjusts his glasses as if he can't believe it to be true.

"My word," he mutters in awe. 

Gordon goes to edit the page again, writing:

_yes 100%!_

He waits for a second, then refreshes the page.

_can we go home mr freeman?_

"He wants to go home," says Gordon triumphantly. "He _wants_ to go home! Hell yeah, boys! We got him back!" He'd punch the air if he could.

Benrey leans over him again. "Gimme. I'm gonna to ask if he wants pizza tonight," he says, making a grab for the phone.

"I'll do it. I'm leader," says Gordon, keeping it out of reach.

_yes tommy ofc we can. wanna get pizza later?_

_chuck e. cheese?_

_sure_

_ok :)_

Gordon's nerves collapse in relief like he's just completed a delicate heart surgery. He wants to turn around and high five the other two like they're his fellow surgeons, but Gordon only has one hand, and he's using it to hold the phone, and that's _way_ more important. He looks towards Tommy's crumbled shelter and notices that the chaos has stilled substantially - the walls are no longer breaking apart and the light that once surged out of the cracks has dimmed into a pleasant glow. 

Gordon wonders distantly that this might be going too well. From a scientific perspective, and with reference to such mathematical concepts as probability, his fears are well founded: the Science Team aren't known for their abundance of good fortune.

And right now, though things seemed perfect, they were flat out of luck.

A slick, borderline _slimy_ voice encircles the group and Gordon is immediately put on edge - he rears back like an agitated prey animal, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at full attention.

"Dr. Freeman, it's a pleasure to see you, as always. But I'm afraid I can't let this improper use of Dr. Coomer's device continue - these are working hours, after all."

Gordon clutches the phone protectively. No, it was more than just a phone: it was the singular lifeline between him and Tommy. Fuck working hours. Nothing was going to happen to that device while Gordon still breathed. 

"Pleasure's all mine," Gordon spits, locking eyes with the offending party. " _G-Man._ "


	5. Chapter 5

The G-Man stands on an island of his own, elevated above the rest like a dark, unsightly cloud. There's a fire in his eyes that Gordon hadn't seen before, and it's an unsettling juxtaposition against his withered face, gaunt and hawkish. Gordon grits his teeth and stares back with his own fire; they've come too far to be intercepted by some corporate skeleton. 

"I will ignore the insincerity of that remark out of respect for you, Dr. Freeman. After all, you have been instrumental to our research," he says.

The G-Man grins and begins slowly clapping.

"And what an illuminating study you've been. Well done, Dr. Freeman. Well done."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Gordon shouts back. While the layers of Tommy's ongoing mystery were gradually peeling away, the magnitude of the situation he was born from remained largely unknown, so Gordon felt pretty much still in the dark. 'Research' didn't sound good, whatever the case. The neo-neo Science Team were no lab rats.

The G-Man's gnarled grin grows wider. "All will become clear-"

"No. Fuck that," Gordon snaps. "Don't pussyfoot around me, man. I've had a long fuckin' day. I want answers. _Now._ "

He doesn't look too pleased to have been interrupted, but the G-Man takes it graciously. He adjusts his tie in a manner that implies Gordon's not quite kicked the hornet's nest, but has maybe inspired the first rumblings of Chernobyl. 

"Yes, well. Perhaps you should rethink your tone with me, Dr. Freeman. I _am_ your employer, so to speak," the G-Man says rather shirtily. 

"But this isn't my job," Gordon replies. "Having to escape my own place of work because of a major technical fuckup - that wasn't my fault - is _not_ in my job description, dude. No- I'll tell you what my job is. My job is to make sure we get out of here _alive,_ " he says, motioning to the team. "So, with all due respect, if you're not going to tell me what the fuck is going on here I would suggest you vamoose, 'cos we're not sticking around."

The G-Man chuckles. "Oh, aren't you?"

Gordon keeps his eyes trained on the G-Man as he paces across the floating terrain. Perhaps sensing danger, Bubby has lifted Dr. Coomer off the floor and hoisted him onto his back, the portal gun safely holstered at his side.

Theoretically, he could grab the gun, hightail it over to Tommy and zap them all out of there, but Gordon would be lying if he said he didn't want to hear this prick out, even if it was just for a minute. After everything they'd been through, Gordon felt that they deserved some goddamn answers.

And if it gave him someone to blame, well, that was even better.

"What's _going on here,_ Dr. Freeman, is a concentration of raw power the likes of which the world has never seen. And by power I should say, _information-_ I'm sure you're aware of our youngest associate's curious predisposition, no?" the G-Man quips. He stops his pacing and looks in Tommy's direction. It makes Gordon want to spit. "I should be surprised if you weren't, since you witnessed his very construction firsthand."

"How'd you know that?" Gordon asks, unease taking hold of his straining voice. "You _saw_ us?" 

"Not quite."

The G-Man smiles wide and odious as he beckons Benrey towards him, and Benrey wordlessly obeys. His eyes are obscured by the shadow of his helmet as he floats up to the G-Man, taking position by his side. 

Gordon thought he'd exhausted his capacity for surprise a few surprises ago. This, however, is like the rug being pulled out from under him. For all his skepticism of Benrey, he'd never assumed that he could be malicious beyond his own agenda. This was the guy who glued his ass to car seats, nagged him for his passport, _saved_ his life not too long ago - for what it was worth, he was part of the team. Now Gordon just feels cold, and any molecule of trust he had left in Benrey sinks into the abyss. 

"You bastard," breathes Gordon. "You conniving, evil bastard. I should've known you'd fuck us over," he says, growing incrementally louder and more irate with each accusation.

Benrey winces and looks away. _Coward._

"Come now, Dr. Freeman. You were only observed as per the expectations of the study. Think of it as a field experiment, wherein _you_ represent a variable by which the control is measured," the G-Man explains.

"...The control being Tommy," Gordon says, thinking out loud. It's the most scientific thing he's heard all week.

"Very astute, Doctor. I wasn't exaggerating when I said you were instrumental in this research. Without you, 'Tommy' would never have been able to manifest his power to such an extensive degree," says the G-Man. He spreads his arms in front of him as if inviting Gordon to marvel at their surroundings. "Look around, Dr. Freeman! This was all made for you!"

Gordon looks around. It's a vast, lifeless space filled with debris. Whatever the G-Man was alluding to was no present he'd ever be happy to receive. 

"What- why would Tommy make this for me?" asks Gordon, voice laced with incredulity. 

The G-Man peers down his nose at Gordon like he couldn't be asked a more tiring question. He sighs and begins to pace again. 

"I was going to spare you the sentimentals for the sake of objectivity, Dr. Freeman, but I see you are yet to grasp the bigger picture. Through no fault of your own, I'm sure. I understand you're not in the company of the sharpest minds," he says, narrowing his eyes at Bubby and Dr. Coomer. The G-Man continues before Gordon can object on their behalf.

"I believe he wants to keep you here. I don't care for why; it is the _force_ behind his motivation that interests me. His willpower alone is enough to create a whole other universe from which you can't escape. Isn't that fascinating, Dr. Freeman? Imagine if we could harness that power. Imagine the things we could _do,_ " says the G-Man. 

Gordon looks around again, finding it difficult to believe that Tommy would be capable of something so forceful. 

"Tommy wouldn't do that," he articulates, though he's not quite certain anymore. 

The G-Man shrugs. "Maybe not. The boy is a simpleton, after all. But I credit myself for giving him a little 'push' in that direction, as it were," he says.

He catches Gordon's eye again and smirks. "Don't look so disturbed, Doctor. It was only a push in psychological terms. To make him think that this little adventure of yours was coming to an end, that everyone would go home once the fun was over. Harmless, no? The sort of white lie you'd tell a child."

" _Harmless?_ Nothing about this is harmless! You fucked him up bad, man!" Gordon rebukes, pointing at Tommy's dishevelled encasement to prove it. "I know you've been screwing with his head - he told me himself! There is no _possible_ way you can justify any of this to me." 

The G-Man starts laughing. It's so sleazy that Gordon wants to punch him. 

"We were trying to _unscrew_ his head, if anything," he says, still laughing. "Don't you see the irony in it, Dr. Freeman? The boy is the physical embodiment of Wikipedia, yet he's as dumb as a stump. It makes for a wonderful anecdote."

When no one laughs with him, the G-Man clears his throat. "In certain circles, anyway."

"But why go to all this trouble?" asks Bubby. "Tommy can't do your homework for you forever, you sick freak!"

The G-Man snorts. "I don't think he could to begin with. I'll forgive your skepticism of this project, gentlemen - I too was skeptical when they told me Wikipedia bayed for a vessel," he says, as if recounting the beginnings of a woeful tale.

"You see, there is more power in Wikipedia than the human consciousness can sustain. Perhaps I persevered with the project out of blind faith, perhaps morbid curiosity. Perhaps budget cuts - either way, my trepidations became real when the device grew sentient. The device - Tommy, I should say - had worked sporadically in its pre-sentient form, regurgitating the odd thing about plants and such, at the expense of countless resources. But once the _soul_ of Wikipedia had completely transferred into the vessel, the device became astoundingly lacking in any sort of recognisable intellect. It was a humiliating moment for Black Mesa. The failure of the project was _so_ acute that I- how should I put it," the G-Man mulls over the subject for a moment, " _usurped_ our lead scientist from his position." 

Gordon narrows his eyes. He drafts a quick internal apology to Darnold for ever doubting him.

"Couldn't you just leave him, then? If he's just a failed prototype or whatever, what's the point of all this?" Gordon asks. 

"It seems that way, doesn't it, Dr. Freeman? Astonishingly enough, I'm yet to divulge to you the biggest failure of all. Indeed, it was impossible to abandon the project because the vessel itself had perfectly melded with Wikipedia. _So_ perfectly, in fact, that we could no longer separate the two - Wikipedia was lodged inside the device's brain like an inoperable tumour," says the G-Man.

He brings his hands to his face and starts rubbing his temples, exhausted by the very thought of Tommy's predicament. "With that in mind, imagine my horror when our superiors asked for it _back._ I couldn't deliver them _that_ bumbling fool, nor could I explain that we had... lost Wikipedia, essentially. There was a gun to my back, Dr. Freeman, and the last dustings of hope for the project were promptly vanishing. 

"Which is when I realised: regardless of how abundantly stupid the boy seems, Wikipedia was _still_ inside him. At first I thought perhaps his brain had overloaded - broken and denatured into something useless - however, after much research, I concluded that Tommy was in fact _so_ psychologically advanced that he had been able to completely dissociate from the Wikipedia databases while somehow remaining functionally intact. I delayed his return to my superiors, and thus my experimentation began to subliminally access the power of Wikipedia. That is where you come in, Dr. Freeman."

Gordon is hit with a twinge of guilt at the mention of his name. Even if it was without his knowledge, he didn't want to be responsible for hurting Tommy in any manner, subliminal or otherwise.

"Go on," says Gordon, tensely. 

The G-Man smiles and continues.

"Accessing Tommy's power is much like scaring the ink out of an octopus. It's instinctual. His brain works faster when he is at his most emotional, therefore stimulating his emotions is the route by which Tommy's power is best achieved. His affection towards that dog picture, for example, was enough to bring it to life," he says, then reconsiders. "Well, enough to animate it. The dog experiment was quite an early one."

That was fair. Sunkist was no ordinary dog.

"We needed something more. Something _human_ Tommy could grow attached to, something with its own will. The dog was of his own design - separating him from it didn't generate enough power. But you, Dr. Freeman, were no such dog. Given the unique circumstance of your 'escape' from Black Mesa," he says in air quotes, "a bond between you and the device was quickly and durably manufactured, so much so that even the mere suggestion that you might be separated has thrown young Tommy into an intensely emotional tailspin. The power generated from this is overwhelming, Dr. Freeman, as I'm sure you're aware; you've been on the receiving end of some demonstrations, after all," the G-Man notes, scanning up and down Gordon's damaged HEV suit.

Gordon's heard enough. This is getting too fucked.

He reluctantly pieces together that a significant chunk of his reality has been staged, all in the aid of the G-Man's mad quest for control over Wikipedia. It's so absurd he wants to laugh or yell 'cut!' so the crew could try another take of this ridiculous story, but he can't; what Gordon faces now is a battle between corporate interests and the morality of keeping Tommy in this position.

Despite this, and however manufactured the circumstance, his bond with Tommy was by no means fake - it was as real as his bond with any of the scientists, maybe even more so; Tommy was like a son to him. Above all, they were a _team,_ and they were going to leave as a team. He grips the phone in his hand a little tighter as if to convey this to Tommy. 

"So you're just syphoning Tommy's life away? What makes you think you have the right, asshole?" Gordon yells.

"Tommy's life is no more, Dr. Freeman," the G-Man says plainly. "Wikipedia has reached the forefront of the vessel. With this - a universes' worth of energy - all manner of things will become possible. For the greater good, etc., etc.," he preens.

"Eat shit!"

In one swift motion, Gordon braces one foot behind him, raises his gun-hand and fires. It's an underhanded tactic to catch the G-Man off guard with, but Gordon consoles himself with the knowledge that the G-Man has used more underhanded tactics than he can count on his fingers, which just about evens it out. But the bullets don't even reach the G-Man - they freeze in midair, only to be batted away like a mild inconvenience. He growls and tries again, but the attempt is futile. Since when was it fair to give the evil guy the ability to stop time?

The G-Man _tsk_ s and regards Gordon disdainfully. 

"I admire your boldness, Doctor, but I'm afraid I can't entertain it. I come to you as a professional, to introduce you to your role in all this. A formality, if you will. And I hereby extend that formality in inviting you all back to Black Mesa to be debriefed," he says with paper-thin benevolence.

"And leave Tommy here?" Gordon jabs his severed arm at the G-Man accusatively. "No way. You can debrief my ass, man- I never signed up to any experiment of yours in the first place."

The G-Man frowns. "Permission notwithstanding, this has still been an experiment, and therefore it is vital that you are debriefed. So I will give you two options."

He steps to the edge of his and Benrey's floating platform, leering at Gordon coldly. 

"Return to Black Mesa and be debriefed, or die here."


	6. Chapter 6

"Return to Black Mesa and be debriefed, or die here."

Gordon shifts back, wary of the G-Man's sudden change in tone. 

The options aren't great. Going back to Black Mesa would mean leaving Tommy here to be wrangled and used for his energy, which was definitely not happening. And dying would mean, well, dying. Also not happening. Gordon had already exhausted option 3: shoot the motherfucker, and the G-Man's time-stopping abilities made it difficult to plan ahead. Sweat drips down Gordon's forehead as he thinks desperately for a way to fix the present conundrum. 

"May we have a moment to discuss the matter?" Bubby asks.

The G-Man raises an eyebrow, seemingly humoured that the two were actually considering dying as an option.

"If you must," he says.

Bubby turns to Gordon, hunched over slightly due to Coomer's weight on his back, and says:

"Gordon, I don't know about you, but I would really prefer not to die." Above them, the G-Man chuckles.

Gordon takes him by the shoulder and turns him around so that their backs are facing the G-Man. They put their heads together, literally, for privacy's sake.

"I know, buddy, me too," he says to Bubby, voice lowered and hushed. "Listen, we've gotta be smart about this, OK? I've got an idea but it's- it's not perfect."

Bubby nods, eager to hear it. 

"Leave Dr. Coomer with me. I'll distract those two assholes if you sneak over to Tommy. Talk to him with the phone so he doesn't blast you into next Tuesday, and give me a signal once you're there - I don't know, a bird sound or something. Then, uh, I'll make my way over to you and we can get ourselves out of here with the portal gun," Gordon hurriedly explains. "Sound good?" 

Bubby looks across the rocky obstacle course between themselves and Tommy, and then back at Gordon. "No, that sounds quite bad, actually."

Gordon throws his hands up. "But that's all I got!"

"Why don't we ask Benrey?" Bubby suggests. "Since he's so good at solving things. And he can fly!" 

Gordon sighs. "We can't. Benrey's a traitor, man. A plant."

"Benrey not a plant, Gordon! He's a security guard." 

"He's a two-faced jackass, is what he is," Gordon snaps, still wounded by the subject.

There's a sudden noise behind them that prompts both Gordon and Bubby to twist around like a couple of conspirators caught red handed. Gordon becomes immediately hostile at what he sees.

"Speak of the devil," he grumbles.

Benrey stands before them, sheepishly rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. He's still struggling to look at either of them, so he keeps his eyes on the floor as he speaks. 

"Uh. He wants to know if you've decided yet," Benrey says. 

Gordon scowls at him. "Tell him we haven't. Fuck off, Benrey," he replies, turning his back to Benrey to punctuate just how unwanted he was right now.

Benrey swallows. "He's not actually going to debrief you, you know."

"I said fuck _off_ , Benrey," Gordon growls, back still turned. 

"He's gonna kill you either way. I pinky swear it," Benrey quietly admits.

He crosses the small island to be closer to Gordon, keeping his voice low.

"I'm sorry. I fucked up, I know I did. Just listen. I'm a triple agent now, OK? Wait, no - I'm lawless. Point is I'm on your side-"

"You think I'm just gonna fucking believe that?" Gordon spits, crowding into Benrey's personal space as oppressively as possible. "You've screwed us over at every turn, dude, and now you've done it again. Face it, shithead. You're not on anyone's side. You're selfish. And I don't give a shit what your point is."

Gordon stares him down unforgivingly, like an enraged bull waiting to roundhouse kick the matador. Surprisingly, Benrey has the nerve to stare back, but the look in his eye is not the textbook apathy Gordon was expecting. He looks sad. 

_Pathetic,_ in Gordon's opinion. 

"Fine. You don't have to trust me, just hear me out. Please," says Benrey, meekly. "It's the best shot you have."

"Let him speak, Gordon," says Bubby, looking nervously between the two. 

Gordon keeps silent. He'd probably regret it, but he couldn't deny that they were desperate, so he motions for Benrey to continue with a limp nudge of his arm. Benrey takes a breath and does so.

"Say you'll go with him. He'll need to turn around to open the portal back to Black Mesa. Shoot him with _that_ when his back his turned." Benrey's eyes flick discreetly to the portal gun as to not alert the G-Man. "Send him back as far as you can. It'll give you a few minutes to get yourselves out of here," he says, uncharacteristically earnest.

Gordon looks at him warily. Surely, he couldn't be trusted. Not now. Not after everything. 

"Are we staying on topic, gentlemen?" interjects the G-Man from above. Benrey gives Gordon a pleading look and backs away, restoring their professional distance. 

He's expecting an answer, so Gordon thinks fast - Benrey's plan was reasonable, but Gordon didn't trust him as far as he could throw him at this point.

That being said, it was simpler and a lot less dangerous than Gordon's _Mission Impossible_ scheme, so he reluctantly feels himself warming to it. It all hinged on whether Benrey was a complete lying asshole or not, which Gordon wasn't liking his odds on, but fuck it - he had to try. 

"We'll get debriefed," Gordon announces. He tries to sound as resentful about the idea as possible to avoid suspicion.

"Good. I expected nothing less," says the G-Man, apparently pleased with Gordon's answer. "Can't have my employees dying, now, can I?" he laughs. It's not very funny.

And sure enough, he turns around. He uses his finger to trace an outline of a rectangle in the empty space before him, just as big as a door. Electricity flickers from his fingertips, following him through the air like a sparkler. 

Benrey quickly turns to Gordon while he does this, mouthing harshly: _go! Now!_

It's sufficiently convincing. Gordon pockets the phone and grabs the portal gun out of Bubby's holster. He takes aim, pressing down on the trigger roughly to ensure the G-Man's swift delivery to anyplace other than here. It could be to the moon - actually, that would be preferable.

All eyes are on the greenish energy as it shoots out of the gun, pulsing dutifully towards its target. Gordon holds his breath, as does Bubby, a visual learner. The G-Man has just about finished his own portal when the energy stops abruptly, just a hair's breadth away from him. 

Oh, _shit._

"Hm. Very predictable," the G-Man says without turning around.

Gordon swallows thickly. He doesn't sound pleased. Doesn't look it, either.

Electricity continues to crackle from the G-Man's fingers, and he balls it in his hands threateningly. When he turns to face them again, his expression is contorted into some sort of sadistic mania which he hones in on Gordon like an eagle to a mouse. 

"I was civil towards you, Dr. Freeman. It upsets me to see that you won't return it," says the G-Man icily. "And you, Benrey- very predictable indeed. How very... _Romeo_ _and Juliet_." 

Benrey pales. Gordon eyes him quizzically, but saves it for later. Benrey's motivations weren't the most important thing right now. 

"Just- put an end to this! Please! It'll only backfire!" Gordon yells in one last ditch attempt at negotiation. 

"Enough," bellows the G-Man. "You can die here, for all I care. All of you. Nothing but miserable leeches on a completely perfect arrangement," he says, his hands now surging with weaponised electricity. He draws back like a praying mantis, ready to strike. 

It roots Gordon to the spot, and his life flashes before him for about the third time today. Dammit. Why did everything have to be so be-all end-all in this line of work?

"Oh, and by the way- _do_ try and remember your passport for the future, Dr. Freeman. It's very bad form to be without it," the G-Man sneers. 

Then, he releases. Brilliant white light streams from his hands, set to do more than just stun. This shit was going to kill them.

Gordon distantly wonders how many Playcoins it would require to survive this.

He ducks into the brace position as the light begins to wash over them, covering his head like it'd do any good. And he waits.

And waits.

And- 

* * *

"Leeches are segmented parasitic or predatory worms that belong to the phylum Annelida and comprise the subclass Hirudinea. They are closely related to the oligochaetes, which include the earthworm, and like them have soft, muscular, segmented bodies that can lengthen and contract. Mr. Freeman is _not_ a leech!" 

Gordon's ears pick up at the familiar voice. It's proof enough that he's still not dead.

Gordon is pleasantly surprised to find that the light has subsided when he blinks his eyes open again, checking around him to see that everyone is alright. Bubby is cowering at his side. It seems the commotion was just enough to wake Coomer up, as he's rolled off Bubby's back and onto the floor, sitting there dumbfounded.

Benrey is standing in front of Gordon, protectively spread out in a standing jumping jack like Gordon's personal shield. He quickly moves away when he notices Gordon looking at him, red to his ears

The voice, of course, is Tommy's - shrill and angry, but for the most part under control. He's hovering above the team, eye level with the G-Man, looking very pissed. 

"Tommy!" Gordon shouts, sincerely overjoyed to see him. "Down here, dude!"

Benrey nudges him. "Can't hear you," he mumbles.

Gordon wants to tell him to piss off, but it turns out he's right. Tommy continues like he hadn't heard a thing.

"That's just so mean," Tommy continues, his voice wavering like he's witnessed a great injustice. 

The G-Man stares at him and falters for a moment.

"Er- how did you-"

He looks at his hands and gasps when he sees they are charred and sooty, like Tommy's reversed the current back into him. His hair stands on end like a crazed scientist, and in Gordon's opinion, the comparison is warranted. 

"I'm, I'm real sick of you, mister!" Tommy yells. "I'm sick of all of this- all the Wikipedia stuff, I didn't mean for any of this!" he says, welling up a bit. "S'not my fault I get so mad. It's 'cos of you! All the experiments, all the testing- I'm through, y'hear? Finished!"

"Impossible," breathes the G-Man. "Wikipedia should be in complete control of the vessel, not _you,_ " he says, gesturing angrily at Tommy. 

Tommy's glowing eyes narrow, and for a minute Gordon's worried he's going to have another ear-piercing meltdown. Luckily for them, he stays levelled. 

"I don't _care_. Mr. Freeman says I can go home, and I will. You can't stop me."

The G-Man wheezes. It's a small bout of laughter that develops into maniacal cackling, leaving him doubled-over by the end of it. 

"Mr. Freeman _this_ , Mr. Freeman _that_ \- what don't you understand about this, boy? You're an encyclopaedia, not a house pet, for Christ's sake!" he exclaims, wiping away a wayward mirthful tear.

"You can't win against your programming. Soon enough Wikipedia will be rid of you, and once it is, Black Mesa will have access to the largest well of information known to man. You're nothing but a numerical oil field!"

Tommy begins spouting a few random facts about oil fields until he clenches up and grits his teeth. "You suck _so_ hard!" he wails.

From below, the team watches the confrontation closely, looking back and forth between the two like spectators at an intense tennis match. Tommy continues his disjointed argument with the G-Man, growing more frustrated with every backhanded remark his captor throws at him.

He's having trouble properly expressing himself, which suggests his internal battle with Wikipedia is still ongoing. Gordon wants to shout something encouraging, but it would probably only distract him - if Tommy could even hear him at all - so he decides against it. 

Gordon is looking around for something helpful to do when he notices that Benrey is no longer at his side. His first thought is that Benrey's betrayed them again; that he's scurried off somewhere to save his own tail, which coincides with his second thought: _I'm gonna kill that wily asshole the next time I see him._ His plan loses traction when Gordon eventually spots Benrey, who is not-so-discreetly waving at him from behind the G-Man. Gordon figures he must've snuck up there while no one was watching. Slippery bastard. 

Once Benrey has Gordon's attention, he shapes his fingers into a gun and points it at the G-Man. He mimes shooting him. 

"What?" Gordon whisper-shouts. 

Benrey huffs and pretends to shoot him again, pointing between Gordon and the G-Man. Gordon doesn't follow.

"Gordon, I believe this is known as 'pantomime'," says Bubby, who has also taken to looking at Benrey.

Dr. Coomer stands up and moves towards them, shaking his head. "Au contraire, Dr. Bubby. What Benrey is trying to convey to us is that Gordon should use the Black Mesa Certified Portal Device to shoot that unfortunate man, thus ending the conflict between himself and Tommy and allowing us a valuable opportunity to escape this wretched place," he explains. 

" _Ohh_ ," they say in unison. 

"He should've just said that," says Bubby. 

Well, it was as good a plan as any. Gordon flashes Benrey a thumbs up, taking aim with the portal gun soon after. 

"Cover me!" he says, though it's not really necessary. It just sounded cool. 

He fires at the G-Man so forcefully that it knocks him backwards. The bullet of energy goes unnoticed, for the most part - Tommy and the G-Man are _still_ heatedly arguing. But, of course, Gordon strikes out once again; the G-Man has the presence of mind to sidestep out of the way before the portal hurtles into his face.

The movement is panicked - _at least doesn't look so cool about it this time,_ Gordon thinks.

"Rats," says Bubby with a snap of his fingers. 

Gordon's portal accidentally connects with the G-Man's own inter-dimensional doorway, and it's not a pretty sight. They collide with a bang, and sparks of unnamable energies flick and spit out of the gaping void it creates. Tendrils of smoke spew from it in murky coils, like a deep sea creature trying to grab on to unsuspecting ankles. There's a beat of silence in which everyone stops to stare at it for a minute, mesmerised, until the G-Man turns around again, looking reasonably frazzled.

"Did you idiots think I was going to fall for that?" the G-Man snaps. "Don't confuse me with _this_ halfwit, I at least have a modicum of self-preservation," he says, pointing at Tommy.

"Mr. Freeman... snnot an idiot," Tommy mumbles. His speech was becoming more incoherent with every passing minute, likely because of Wikipedia's parasitic influence and the growing volume of his thoughts. But it's enough motivation to make Gordon want to settle this, _fast._

"See! If you had any sense, you'd know better than to talk back to me. You are only making it harder for yourself," says the G-Man to Tommy, mashing his mouth together like he's talking to a child. 

While Tommy and the G-Man reenter their frenzied argument, Benrey regroups with Gordon and the others. 

"Nice quickscope, dude," Benrey remarks flatly. "GG."

"Save it, asshole. I only have one hand," Gordon retorts, waving his stump in Benrey's face. 

"So?" 

" _So?"_ Gordon scoffs. "C'mon. Like you could've done better."

"Uh, I definitely could've-"

"Enough!" Coomer shouts as he moves between them. "Don't you know what you've done?" 

When neither of them say anything, Coomer rolls his eyes dramatically and motions for them to look towards the steaming, newly-formed portal. 

"The _equation?"_ he prompts, as if anyone is supposed to know what that means.

"What- what equation?" says Gordon, genuinely confused. Even Bubby seems a little lost.

Coomer rolls his eyes again. "Time + time = big quantum fuck, Gordon. Didn't they teach you this at MIT?"

Coomer looks astonished when Gordon confirms that in all his years of studying theoretical physics, he hasn't come across this particular equation.

"Huh. American education really has gone down the drain," says Coomer woefully.

"What's your point, Dr. Coomer?" Gordon huffs. "I don't need an equation to tell me that _that_ is a big- fuckin' something."

"My point is, Gordon, that what we're seeing now is a calamity beyond our wildest imagination. You see, when time collides with time - time squared, to be exact - it creates a giant void of chaos that lays waste to anything and everything that goes near it. That's why you must never cross the streams, Gordon!" Coomer says, tapping his nose.

"If, say, the human body got _sucked into_ that thing, well: its genetics would be irreversibly scrambled in the most painful death known to man!" Coomer informs them. "Which is why we must stay a very safe distance away from it."

Gordon barely has time to digest this information when he hears a blood-curdling shriek from above. 

While Coomer was explaining how important it is not to go anywhere near the time squared portal, Tommy had snapped and surged forward, tackling the G-Man into the mouth of the thing like a rugby player going for the ball. The G-Man barely holds on, somehow gripping the metaphysical hinges of the portal before he can be fully consumed by it.

Worryingly, Tommy isn't showing any restraint, pushing onwards without fear of being likewise sucked in. Gordon's stomach plummets at the sight, and he comes to the horrifying realisation that there probably wasn't an article warning against the dangers of time squared on Wikipedia.

"Shit," says Benrey.

Dr. Coomer looks up at the scene curiously. "Oh dear. That is exactly the opposite of what I meant." 

"Tommy!" Gordon squawks. "Nononono- get away from that thing! Right now!" 

Tommy's not listening. The G-Man, however, is all ears - he looks towards Gordon and cries out despairingly. 

"Help me, not him! H-he's just a robot!"

It's not very persuasive, and Gordon's too hyper-focussed on getting Tommy out of there to give a single shit about the G-Man. He got them in this mess, after all. 

"The phone," Gordon suddenly announces, and he scrambles to get it out of his back pocket. "We gotta warn him. Shit shit shit shit-"

"Dude, breathe," says Benrey.

"I'm _trying_ ," Gordon hisses, fumbling the phone with his one good hand. When he finally gets Wikipedia open, he hastily deletes their last entry and starts anew. 

_tommy getaway firm th eprotal rihght now or you will die_

"Shit!" Gordon says for what seems like the hundredth time, desperately thumbing over the spelling mistakes. Tommy is still struggling to push the G-Man inside the portal, which suggests to Gordon that his message hasn't been communicated effectively. He tries again.

_get away from portal it is bad news_

"It's more than that, Gordon!" Coomer scoffs. "This surely requires some more emotive language." 

Gordon makes a frustrated noise, but edits the writing nonetheless.

_get away from portal it is very bad news_

"Better," says Coomer.

Gordon quickly refreshes the page, and his heart sinks when he sees Tommy hasn't replied. He taps the refresh button madly, but still, there's nothing. 

"Why- what's wrong with this shit?" he says, overwrought and panicky. There's no changes from above, either; Tommy only rams himself further into the void as the G-Man clings on for dear life. And he's slipping fast, only moments away from losing his grip completely. 

Gordon looks frantically amongst his fellow scientists, and says:

"Tommy _has_ to have seen it. That message was sent straight to his brain, basically. Why the hell isn't he letting up?" 

For a while, no one speaks, until Bubby's eyes darken as he considers something more. 

"Perhaps Tommy knows what has to be done," he says gravely. 

Gordon's mouth goes dry. No, he couldn't mean-

"A suicide mission?" says Benrey. 

They look back at the struggle, all of them rendered speechless by the realisation that Tommy likely _had_ seen their warning, but was ignoring it in favour of his own heroics. Time seems to slow in that moment, and Gordon's fingers twinge around the phone to regain some sort of grip on reality. Stunned, he brings the phone up to his face and stares blankly at the screen.

Gordon refreshes the page one last time. It reads:

_You guys were the bestest friends I ever had._

The G-Man slips, and both he and Tommy disappear into the portal.

What comes next is the closest approximation of nothingness Gordon can even begin to describe. Their surroundings unravel and vanish into nothing, like it was never even there to begin with. There is no noise. There is no time. There's nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team brainstorms a new way to save Tommy.

Gordon jolts awake. He's spared the usual aches and pains that came with time travel, which is surprising but not at all unpleasant. The only sensation he's able to acknowledge is a peculiar numbness weighing down on his body.

He lays still for a moment, letting his faculties catch up with his tired muscles. His skin prickles as the feeling returns to it, and he becomes aware enough to recognise that the surface he's resting on is hard and wooden - a bench, most likely. It would be nice if he had a cushion; the flat surface wasn't doing his back any favours.

He wonders if this was how Tommy felt when he first became aware - laid out flat, eyes fixed on the ceiling, all numb and clean and new. 

Well, Gordon didn't feel exactly new. He felt old and exhausted. He sits up and feels his back click, and his shoulders ache when he stretches out his arms. He feels like an Egyptian mummy woken from a cursed ancient slumber, probably smells like one too. You know it's gotten pretty bad when the words 'shower' and 'decontamination' become interchangeable. 

He rubs his eyes. _Jesus,_ it's too bright in here. Obnoxiously bright, like those crappy ceiling lights they had back in the locker room. And to Gordon's great perplexity, that was exactly what they are.

"Holy shit," he says, glancing around at the custard-yellow furnishings. "This is- it's the locker room. We're back."

The others - Coomer, Bubby and Benrey - are sprawled across the room, either on the floor or draped over a bench. The two scientists rise groggily, noting with surprise their familiar surroundings. Benrey, on the other hand, picks himself up off the ground and quietly slinks out of the room. Gordon doesn't see him leave; he's all too occupied with the current circumstance.

Looking around, Gordon comes to the painful realisation that Tommy's locker isn't there, next to his own, where it should be. It fills him with a cold, empty feeling that threatens to consume him if he dwells on it for too long.

"Backstreet's Back, Gordon!" says Coomer, which gets Gordon's attention.

He looks at Coomer and notices something very different about him - he's clean. His lab coat is the clinical shade of white its makers intended it to be - like it's just been washed - and the gash in his head he'd acquired from their first encounter with Tommy has completely disappeared. Somehow, he's as good as new.

"Coomer, you're clean," Gordon marvels.

"I am," says Coomer, proudly. "Haven't touched a drop in three years."

"What? No- your clothes are clean. Yours too, Bubby."

Bubby appraises himself and looks pleased when he finds this to be true, though it's odd seeing him without wayward splotches of gore coating his face and uniform.

"You're looking rather splendid yourself, Gordon. Why, you've even grown a second hand!" says Coomer.

For a moment Gordon wonders what the hell he's talking about, until the space where his right hand once was starts to itch like a phantom limb. He looks down at it, expecting to see a hunk of metal, and double-takes when he finds that the limb is completely reattached. He brings it to eye level, turning it over once or twice in wonder. The HEV suit is likewise repaired, polished and new like it had been when Gordon first put it on. There isn't a scratch on him to show for the weeks of hell he'd been through, but at least he wouldn't have to pay for repairs.

"How did this- did we go back in time?" Gordon asks, still in awe of his newly-attached hand.

"Perhaps. I'll see if my lunch is still in date," Bubby says, prying open his locker. He has to brute force it in lieu of his missing keys.

Meanwhile, Coomer licks his finger and puts it in the air like he's checking the direction of the wind. After some introspection, he frowns and looks at his watch.

"I don't believe that we've gone _back_ in time, Gordon," he says. "By my calculations, it's the present day. Rather, this may in fact be an alternate dimension."

Gordon's brow furrows. Time travel was one thing, but an alternate dimension? Are the limitations of science really so boundless?

...Then again, all their wounds were inexplicably healed - if Coomer was right about it being the present day, then his theory might have a reasonable foundation. 

After a few seconds of rummaging, Bubby fishes a quite shrivelled-looking bacon sandwich out of his locker and gives it a sniff.

"Eugh," he says, recoiling. "That's definitely gone off."

"Then, time has passed normally," notes Coomer, astutely. He starts pacing, hands clasped behind his back like an aged scholar. "Except, not quite. Time has passed both normally and abnormally according to the paradox created by the time² portal. If I may turn your attention back to the equation, gentlemen, then what we are experiencing now is known as a 'big quantum fuck'," he explains. 

A confused panic wells up inside Gordon. What the fuck did any of this mean? More importantly, what did it mean for Tommy? Benrey had described Tommy's actions as a 'suicide mission' - those words hang on Gordon's tongue so chillingly that he can't even bring himself to utter them. He turns to Bubby, anxious to hear his point of view on the subject.

"Bubby, when you said Tommy knew what had to be done-"

"It was just a guess," Bubby reveals, throwing the rotting sandwich over his shoulder as he does so. "It's not all that hard to deduce that if Tommy disappeared, so too would the chaos caused by Wikipedia. And it looks to me like he's undone everything! Suppose I was on the money, 'ey?"

"Indeed! Why, Dr. Bubby, you're the smartest man I know," Coomer beams at him. Bubby leans cooly against a locker, soaking in the praise. 

Gordon is floored that the two could be so untroubled at a time like this. He looks down at his hands, palms upturned, unblemished, and wonders how he got into this mess. What was real? What wasn't?

He thinks of Tommy, of how integral he was to the team. He was the soul of it, really; perpetually cheerful, curious and all too good in nature for the shit he was put through. He thinks of that funny little striped hat (where had he even found it? The garbage?) and the way Tommy's hair poked out from beneath it. He thinks of the plans the kid had for his future with Sunkist.

It bruises his heart greatly to think that Tommy might actually be gone. Even the more tiresome aspects of Tommy, though they were very few in number, became pinpricks of grief that probed his mind like bee stings. 

"Coomer. Give it to me straight. Can we get him back?" Gordon asks, his voice heavy.

Coomer and Bubby share an uneasy look, knowing that Gordon will only accept some variation 'yes' as an answer. 

"Tommy is trapped in a temporal paradox, Gordon, so getting him back wouldn't be as simple as- er, fishing a fly out of a soup bowl. That is, if he even still exists," says Coomer, eyes widening at the suggestion. "Though I confess I'm not entirely knowledgeable on the subject."

"Then who is!" Gordon snaps.

Coomer flinches. He's only trying to help, and Gordon knows it, so he takes it down a notch.

"I'm sorry, I just- this _can't_ be how it ends," he stammers. "We're missing something, I can feel it. And if we just figure out what 'it' _is,_ then we'll have Tommy back. You guys can feel it too, right?"

There is a weighty silence.

Gordon looks frantically between the two scientists. "Well? Can't you? Jesus, stop looking at me like I'm having an episode."

"You kind of are," notes Bubby. "Hysteria."

Coomer places a hand on Bubby's shoulder and draws him back protectively. "Gordon, I just don't think it's scientifically feasible," he admits. 

An anguished laugh escapes Gordon's fast-pinching throat. "It wasn't scientifically feasible to bring Wikipedia to _life,_ either. None of what happened to us was scientifically feasible, Dr. Coomer! Why is this so different?"

He stands up, threading a hand through his hair in frustration. Coomer and Bubby linger in silence, watching as Gordon's mind whirs between misplaced optimism and an inability to accept that things might not be going to plan.

He doesn't mean to get angry, but the uncertainty of this ludicrous bullshit was clogging his better senses like a cruel, incessant joke, and he finds that he just can't help himself. He feels too worked up right now to assess any of it rationally, so he waves the others off and heads for the door.

Gordon blows off steam in the only way he knows how: walking away from the problem. He stalks up and down the laboratory halls like he has somewhere to be, but really, he's a million miles away and letting his legs take him wherever they want to go. He passes a number of faceless scientists (all of whom scuttle out of his way in fear of being mowed down) and curses them inwardly, knowing that if this had been the other dimension, their employment would've been centred around tormenting Tommy and himself. Fuck knows how Black Mesa is paying the bills now.

What was he running away from? Guilt? He certainly felt guilty, even if none of this was really his fault. He bore the guilt of not being able to save Tommy, of letting him destroy himself while he could only sit and watch, and relived it again and again until it hurt to think about.

Or perhaps, selfishly, he was just ashamed. Ashamed that he hadn't figured out that everything they'd endured had been a ruse - that he'd been so focussed on his own demented little adventure, he'd been blind to the bigger picture. It was pride-wounding, sure, but it wasn't about him anymore. If he had to square the circle to fix this, to get Tommy back, fish him out of the paradoxical soup bowl, then he swears he will do it. Somehow.

Before that, though, Gordon checks himself into the med bay, just to be certain that everything is physically in order. He can barely believe that his hand is back, totally fine and in pristine condition, and asks the on duty medic to pay careful attention to it. 

"Your hand," says the medic.

"Yes," says Gordon.

"It was amputated."

"Yes. Forcefully."

"Then... reattached."

"Mhm."

"Yet there are no signs of trauma," the medic notes while inspecting Gordon's wrist. He looks between Gordon's hand and his face, eyes full of suspicion.

"Are you psychologically well, Mr...?"

Gordon pulls his hand back. "Freeman. And no, I'm not so sure I am these days."

He strides out of the med bay, dissatisfied, and sets about forming a plan to get Tommy back. The fact that this would be about the tenth plan of that nature suggests that he hasn't been very successful thus far, but this time, _this_ time things would be different. He just had to do some research, brush up on this quantum stuff. Piece of cake. He has a degree in physics already, how hard could it be?

The number of people in the halls begins to dwindle, and Gordon suspects that it's near the end of the day. He considers going home, getting settled and starting his research from his own laptop, but quickly scraps the idea. It's weird - he hasn't seen the light of day in so long, yet something keeps him drawn to the labs, like he might jinx any chance of saving Tommy if he leaves now. So he stays put, combing the building for any sort of quantum research facility, or perhaps a library.

What was Black Mesa's function, anyway? If the main bulk of the G-Man's research had been about Tommy & the power of Wikipedia, were all these labs just for show? What had they been repurposed for in this Tommy-less dimension? 

Gordon peers through some of the lab windows as he passes by, and concludes that there is indeed science taking place inside the facility. He can't be sure of exactly what they're studying, though the labs seem much more lived-in and organised. There are test tubes, various bits of machinery and vats of unidentifiable fizzing liquid in nearly every room. He shrugs it off for now, preoccupied with locating the physics department, though he can't help but wonder if Black Mesa still had a team dedicated to illegally cloning Coomer set up somewhere in the basement. He'd check it out later.

He finds himself in the canteen. It was one of the few places in the building that he was familiar with, besides the locker room, since the rest of the facility had been unrecognisably bloodstained and scorched the last time he explored it. The scene before him is of striking contrast to those horrors: there are a few people dotted around the plastic tables, chatting over drinks before the work day is over. None of them seem to recognise him, and nor does he recognise any of them. He considers asking someone for directions but is put off by the way they all stare at him when he walks by - plus, he didn't want to raise alarm or suspicion, so he hastens out of the room and down the nearest walkway. 

He's been here before, Gordon soon realises. It's the walkway that leads to the server room - the place he'd woken up in after his first trip through time. And there, sitting in the middle of it, is Benrey, on the floor with his back against the wall. He doesn't acknowledge Gordon as he moves closer, electing instead to stare at the opposing wall. 

He pops a squat next to Benrey, resting heavily against the sheet metal as he sits back. Benrey doesn't object or shuffle away; Gordon doesn't even see him blink. It's a bit creepy.

"What's got you so quiet?" Gordon asks, glancing at Benrey's side profile. 

Benrey shrugs. 

There's a minute of silence in which Gordon joins Benrey in his wall-staring. There's nothing interesting about it, but Gordon understands the appeal. He's seen a lifetime's worth of crazy shit in such a short span of time - a little mundanity is suddenly very welcome. He could use this time to refine his plan, and he tries, but his thoughts find their way back to Benrey.

"I should be angry at you, you know. I think I am. I think I'm livid," says Gordon. He wasn't sure what to feel around Benrey anymore; his loyalties switched too often for Gordon to form a particular feeling about the guy and stick to it.

"Are you?" Benrey asks.

Gordon thinks about this, and eventually decides that he isn't. For endangering the Team's lives, yes, he's pissed, but he's not exactly as angry as he should be. Perhaps he was just too tired to start feuding with Benrey again. They couldn't afford to, not right now.

He shakes his head. Benrey looks at him briefly and chuckles under his breath.

"I hate my job," he states flatly.

"...OK," says Gordon, eyeing him with curiosity. _That_ came out of nowhere. "You mean security? Why?"

Benrey's head lolls back against the wall, contemplative, and he looks up at the ceiling as he speaks.

"Something like that. Yeah. I just hate it. People keep calling me 'Barney'." 

"Well, to be fair, 'Benrey' isn't something you expect someone to be called," Gordon responds, stifling a laugh. "But that's it? _That's_ why you hate your job? Could be worse, man. When I was working at Starbucks, someone threw an iced latte at me for spelling their name wrong." Gordon grimaces. The stains hadn't come out for weeks. At least it was iced.

When Benrey speaks again, his voice is noticeably colder.

"I hate that I'm not significant enough for them to care that my name isn't _Barney._ I'm just, like, a thing people use. Like a pencil. Do you know how fuckin' irritating it is to be told: 'Barney, today you've gotta follow this guy 'til he croaks. He's very important, OK, _Barney?_ So get the hell on with it'," he bemoans in a weak imitation of someone else's voice. "I didn't even like the tailing missions in _Assassin's Creed,_ and what's the point? I'm not the main character. _You_ are, Feetman. Fucking wack, man." 

Benrey shakes his head, mussing the hair under his helmet with one hand. "So maybe you deserved a little iced latte surprise for getting a guy's name wrong. Gotta use your listening ears," he says, reaching out to pinch Gordon's ear as he does so. 

Gordon bats his hand away. "Stop calling me _Feetman_ and maybe I'll agree with you." 

Benrey snorts, but says nothing more.

It's almost refreshing to be dealing with a regular, human problem that didn't concern the very fabric of the universe, and for that reason, Gordon doesn't want it to end just yet. He shifts round a little and stares at Benrey, waiting for him to look back. He does, eventually. 

"People are assholes, dude. So what? There'll always be someone who knows your name isn't Barney. And they're the only ones you need to care about. So suck it up, _Benrey,_ and help me get a degree in quantum physics. We've gotta figure this shit out and get Tommy back pronto," says Gordon.

He breaks eye contact for a moment to scrub a hand over his face, exhausted by the thought of all the work to come. When he meets Benrey's eyes again, the guy's still staring, like he's witnessed some ineffable wonder.

"What?" Gordon probes. 

Slowly, Benrey brings his hand up towards his face. He shapes his fingers like a camera and pretends to take a photo. 

"Yep," he says, a smile growing on his face. "This one's going in my cringe compilation."

Gordon tuts and pulls Benrey's hands down. "Whatever, man. Just don't be surprised if I start calling you Barney."

There's a noise behind them that pulls the two out of their strange moment. It's the door to the canteen sliding open, followed by the sound of shoes against metal. Gordon suddenly realises how silly they must look, sitting on the floor cross-legged like a couple of kids at a picnic. He turns around sheepishly, ready to scoot out of the way for whoever's coming. 

"Oh," says the person behind them. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Wait. Gordon knows that voice. It's-

"Darnold!" Gordon says heartily. He gets to his feet, swivelling around to greet the guy. "How've you been, man?"

Darnold stands still and baffled at Gordon's very casual use of his name. He doesn't look all that different from when Gordon last saw him, though his uniform is crisp and unstained. There's an air of authority to him that can be gleaned from his neat presentation, and _good for him_ _,_ Gordon thinks - he hadn't been looking too hot while he was under the G-Man's thumb. Darnold takes Gordon's hand when it's offered, but peers at him quizzically as he shakes it. 

"I'm sorry - do I know you?" he asks.

 _Oh._ It had slipped Gordon's mind that things were different in this dimension, and that he and Darnold likely hadn't been introduced. He wants to smack himself on the forehead, wracking his brain for how he was going to explain this. 

Thankfully, he doesn't have to. There's a sizeable _crash_ that occurs nearby - in the server room, no less - like a cymbal hitting the floor. The three jump in surprise. Gordon keeps his senses pinned on the noise, wary of danger. He can't help it; if this was still the Black Mesa of the past, Gordon would be readying a weapon. 

"Gods, what was that?" says Darnold, pushing past them hastily. 

Gordon and Benrey blink at each other. They follow after him, equally eager to find the origin of the noise.

* * *

Gordon had been harbouring unhappy feelings about the server room ever since he saw Tommy's lifeless body on display in the adjacent laboratory, but swallows them as they make their way inside. Though he was reluctant to do so, maybe focussing on the present wasn't such a bad idea.

To Gordon's surprise, the server room is still indeed a server room, housing rows of computers like it had all that time ago. It's a perplexing discovery - Gordon had assumed Black Mesa would move away from Wikipedia, and maybe even computing altogether with Tommy out of the picture. Everything seems relatively unchanged, but there is one stark difference: the doorway to the laboratory is gone. Gordon is relieved, but the satisfaction is double-edged. The absence of the door served as just another reminder that Tommy was also gone. 

The source of the noise becomes obvious as they stumble upon the scene of the crime: a computer - a clunky, decrepit Apple Macintosh - has been thrown on the floor with brute force, breaking it into a number of jagged pieces that scatter across the room like shards of glass. The culprits themselves stand over the destroyed computer, uncaring that they've been caught red-handed. 

"Hello, Gordon!" Coomer chirps. "Are you here to look for Tommy as well? I dare say great minds think alike! Dr. Bubby and I were just hatching a few of these unsightly devices - it occurred to me that the poor boy may be inside one of them, him being Wikipedia and such. Hand me another one, Bubby."

Bubby pulls a second computer out of the wall and gives it to Coomer. He hoists it over his head, preparing to smash it on the ground with clone-induced ferocity. 

Gordon stares at him, unamused. "Coomer. Tommy's not in there, he wouldn't fit."

"Merely a theory, Gordon. To truly prove a hypothesis, you must take it to the field!" 

Coomer hurls the unfortunate machine to the floor, and it bursts open like an imploding planet. Gordon has to shield his face to avoid the pieces of shrapnel that are released upon impact - the aerodynamics of the manoeuvre are downright lethal. Next to him, Darnold boggles at the scene like he's never seen anything more bizarre, more _uncouth_ in his life. And Gordon can't really blame him for that; Bubby and Coomer's antics took some getting used to. 

"Are you insane!" Darnold yells, snapping out of his bemused stupor. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? That's- that's company property you're destroying!"

The two scientists eye Darnold skeptically, affronted by his interference in their perfectly logical plan. Gordon puts a hand out to halt Bubby before he can rip another computer out of its sockets and moves in closer, turning them both around for a quick tête-à-tête.

"Guys, you remember Darnold. I don't think he remembers us, though," says Gordon, keeping his voice low and out of earshot. "I'm guessing he's head honcho around here, so I'm not sure he'd appreciate you smashing any more of his tech. So cut it out,” he admonishes. “Found out anything new about Tommy?" 

Bubby shakes his head. "Nope. But, interestingly, I believe they're still using this room for Wikipedia-based operations. Their logo is stuck on all the computers, see. Which is what gave Dr. Coomer that brilliant idea," he says, smiling at Coomer. Coomer smiles back. They were two peas in a pod, clearly. 

"You thought a quantum paradox could be solved by smashing computers?" Gordon hisses. 

"Sometimes the most complex questions can be solved with the simplest of answers," Coomer whispers back.

It sounds to Gordon like Coomer just wanted an excuse to break stuff. But before Gordon can think of an appropriate retort, he feels a finger prodding his metal-clad shoulder. 

"Hey! Hey you!" says Darnold in an effort to get Gordon's attention. "Care to explain what your _associates_ are up to in here? Because, actually, I don't recognise a single one of you, and I'm literally seconds away from calling security," Darnold threatens.

He pays closest attention to Gordon, scanning up and down the HEV suit with increasing mortification. "And just where the heck did you get that suit! Did you- did you _steal_ it? OK, that's it, I'm calling the guards."

Darnold turns around and strides towards the door. Gordon barely has time to catch him by the shoulder before he makes it out of the room. 

"Wait!" Gordon shouts, spinning Darnold around to face him. "We work here, I swear. There's just been a misunderstanding. They're- uh, repairmen. Those computers _had_ to be destroyed - like, completely destroyed - as a security measure. Wouldn't want company secrets being leaked, you know?" he frantically explains.

Darnold narrows his eyes. "I didn't send for any repairmen."

"It's an annual thing. Company policy, it's in the small print," Gordon lies. "And the suit, uh. Someone let me borrow it. These hands-on jobs can get a little precarious," he says, laughing nervously. 

"Someone let you _borrow_ it?" says Darnold, visibly appalled. "But it's still just a prototype!" 

Crap. Gordon hadn't thought of that. 

"E-exactly! I'm testing it out for you. Kills two birds with one stone - y'know, quick repair job, take the suit for a spin. Fits really well, by the way. Great, uh, protection." (He was being sincere in that respect. It really was a damn good suit when put to the test).

Darnold doesn't look convinced. In fact, he looks astonished, maybe even a tad frightened, by Gordon's string of blatant untruths, and it seems to dawn on him that this might actually be a set-up. He backs out of Gordon's grip and fixes his posture, trying not to look too shit-scared in front of four unknown and possibly unhinged men.

"Oh. Um, right. I'd better call IT about this, then. Let them know you're here," he assures them with faux-earnestness. He inches towards the door, keycard in hand, ready for a hasty escape. "So if you'll excuse me-"

"Whoa there." 

Benrey plants himself between Darnold and the door. He mirrors Darnold's movements, shuffling left and right as Darnold tries to get past. 

For once, Benrey has the right idea. They couldn't let Darnold rat them out and possibly have them thrown off the premises - they _needed_ the labs, where else would they find such advanced technology? Plus, it was likely Darnold knew a thing or two about the servers. He could be useful. 

"Let me through!" Darnold barks, sounding reasonably more desperate. He makes another attempt at reaching the door, but Benrey blocks him with inhuman deftness.

Darnold huffs and steps back. "Aren't you part of security? You could be fired for this!" 

He flashes his keycard at Benrey authoritatively, showing off his many decorations as Head of the Cybernetics Department. Benrey eyes it, tracking the thing like a cat would a laser toy. And in one swift, terrifying motion, he swipes the keycard from Darnold, tilts his head back and swallows it. The rest look on in horror as it - literally - goes down without a hitch.

Satisfied, Benrey licks his lips. 

"Sounds like a you problem," he says, so casually that it's almost disturbing. 

In fact, it _is_ disturbing. Shock paints Darnold's paling face, causing him to wobble in place like he's been tranquillised. He faints, crumpling to the floor like a sack of potatoes. 

"What the fuck," Gordon remarks, unable to articulate anything else. 

Benrey grins at him. "Boo." 

"Should we strap him to a chair? Sew his mouth shut?" queries Bubby, crouching next to Darnold's unconscious body. Gordon scuffs him upside the head for the violent suggestion.

"Don't you dare. He can't get out without the card, so just leave him," Gordon orders. Except, he doesn't quite leave him - Gordon hauls Darnold off the floor and onto a cushioned computer chair, leaving him untied. The poor guy deserved to be at least a _tiny_ bit comfortable for this ordeal. 

With Darnold secured, Gordon sets about mobilising the Science Team for their most challenging mission yet: homework. His first course of action is to get everyone behind a computer with the instruction to thoroughly research quantum mechanics and, ultimately, figure out a way to rescue Tommy. He adds that no one is allowed to leave the room until a plan is formed.

"Not even for a soda?" Coomer pleads.

"There's a vending machine right over there," says Gordon, pointing at it. "Just smash it open. No. Leaving."

The rest of the group aren't much thrilled by the directive. They complain incessantly, spinning around in their chairs and throwing scrunched up bits of paper at each other like a bunch of schoolchildren. Gordon snaps at them every so often, but tries to stay focussed on his own research. He combs through innumerable studies regarding temporal paradoxes, Schrödinger, light bending and wave–particle duality (what did that even mean?), at which point he introduces the whiteboards.

"I found these in the back," he says, handing each of them a whiteboard and a pen. "Write your ideas down and we'll brainstorm."

For a while, the scratching of whiteboard pens against plastic becomes the only noise in the room. It makes Gordon feel a little optimistic - like maybe, just maybe, the others were taking this seriously. After jotting down a few sparse notes, Gordon gets up to peek at the rest of the team's ideas. 

Coomer has coated his entire whiteboard in black ink.

"Coomer, what the hell, man!" Gordon sputters. 

"It's a void," Coomer explains, "like the one Tommy fell into. I have to immerse myself in the role before I can understand the mechanics, Gordon."

Gordon pinches his nose. "I didn't ask you to immerse yourself, I asked you for ideas. _Ideas,_ Coomer!"

"All in good time," says Coomer, returning to his work. 

Bubby's whiteboard is no better. He's written something at least, but it's in no way legible. In fact, it barely resembles any human language - what he's written is more like strange glyphs.

"What?" says Bubby. "It's my native tongue."

"Can you- can you translate?" asks Gordon, bewildered. 

" _Translate?"_ Bubby scoffs. "The English language is nowhere near as advanced, Gordon. There simply wouldn't be a linguistic equivalent," he states matter-of-factly.

"Then write in English!" 

"I never learned your measly alphabet, Gordon. Now leave me be."

Gordon makes an exasperated noise and goes to inspect Benrey's work. With hindsight, he'll wish he hadn't, because Benrey's gotten as far as drawing a single dick before flipping his computer back on to play Solitaire. Gordon doesn't even have any words to punish him with. He just sits back down in stunned silence, wondering why of all people, these were the three he was stuck with. 

About an hour into to the research initiative, Benrey and Coomer have taken to playing tennis with two mousepads and a stress ball. Bubby is reclined in his chair, refereeing the match. Gordon has his head in his hands.

"This is serious," Gordon mumbles. He is a vision of despair. 

"Indeed it is, Gordon," Coomer assures him. "Benrey is losing, 40 - Love!" 

"Whatever, bro. I'm not at Full Force yet," Benrey scowls.

Just as Coomer fires the winning serve, Bubby grabs the stress ball out of the air and sits forward, chin in his hand. He squeezes the stress ball in the other pensively.

"What if," he starts," "what if we found another portal gun and made a _second_ time² portal, thereby returning us to the original dimension."

It's not a bad idea. Gordon releases his head from his hands, clouds of despair beginning to part.

"Yeah- yeah, that could work," says Gordon with rising hopefulness. "Do you still have the old one with you?" 

"No," Bubby informs him, "but there could be another somewhere in the facility."

Thus began operation Find A Portal Gun. It involved Benrey, in his very own reconnaissance mission, sweeping across the building as fast as he could, back to the place where they'd originally found the portal gun. Gordon is a little sour about letting Benrey go on his own, for reasons concerning trust and Benrey's wavering ability to stick to one particular task, but he figures it's the most sensible thing. Benrey could phase through walls, he couldn't. It's as simple as that. 

Gordon warns him against going AWOL.

"I will find out where you live and break your PS3," he says icily. "And then I will find you. And then I'll-"

"OK, OK, I get it. Jesus." Benrey waves Gordon off, turning to leave. "Just sit tight, m'lady," he says with a salute. 

Gordon rolls his eyes. It's the least charming thing he's ever seen.

It takes Benrey about 15 minutes to get around the entire facility. Gordon starts getting antsy around the 3 minute mark, pacing up and down the room and asking himself if it was really a good idea to trust Benrey with a task like this. It's a godsend when Benrey returns, but he's empty-handed.

"It's different," he explains. "The rooms are different. No portal guns, no nothing."

Gordon grills him on it for a few minutes more, just to be sure this wasn't a very unfunny prank, but, reluctantly, he accepts that Benrey's being serious. It turns out the room they'd found the portal gun in was bricked up in this dimension - it didn't even exist. Despairing once again, Gordon takes the stress ball off Bubby and angrily lobs it at the nearest wall. It pings back in his face, to everyone's delight but his own.

So it's back to the drawing board. Bubby suggests they make another portal gun, but it's a lofty aspiration since none of them had the expertise, nor the resources, for such a project. Coomer goes back to staring at his small, ink-coloured void, apparently waiting for inspiration. Gordon tries hot seating with him, asking him to embody the void and reveal it's hidden mechanisms, but the effort is useless. Coomer's acting skills do not extend to the non-physical.

Gordon makes the occasional attempt to communicate with Tommy via Wikipedia, just as he’d done using Coomer’s phone. It comes to nothing - the mods shoot down his every edit, even on the most derelict of pages. He hopes that Tommy, wherever he is, can sense him trying, and leaves a few encouraging messages in his drafts just in case.

From across the room, Benrey picks around the servers, searching for any indication that Tommy might be among them. He hones in on a particular computer and watches it blink, interpreting it as rudimentary morse code. He calls Gordon over to check it out. 

"That's it, buddy. Like we practiced. One blink for yes, two for no," he says to the box. 

"It just blinked three times," says Gordon, unimpressed.

Benrey scratches his helmet. "Right. Three for, uh. Pogchamp."

Gordon sighs and leaves Benrey crouched next to the little flashing light. It clearly isn't Tommy. The kid couldn't use Justin.tv lingo to save his life. 

About two hours into the research-initiative-turned-botched-reconnaissance-mission, Darnold begins to stir in his sleep. The team stops what they're doing to watch him, each thinking of a unique way to subdue their hostage if push came to shove. 

"I don't think he believed your repairman skit, you know," Bubby says to Gordon, whispering from behind his hand.

"Yeah, no shit," says Gordon. "I've got a plan this time, though. To get some answers out of him. I'll need your passport."

Bubby looks offended. "Like fuck you do!" 

"Bubby, trust me. You'll like this," says Gordon, trying to shush him. Once he has Bubby's attention, he smirks.

"We're going undercover."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Reposted due to small error. My mistake!


	8. Chapter 8

Darnold didn't much like darkness. He liked to see where he was going, what he was doing, etc., as anyone would. Darkness is a very uncertain thing. Anything could happen in the dark. Which is why Darnold isn't filled with much confidence when he opens his eyes, only to be met with total darkness. 

Had he even opened his eyes? It was almost too dark to tell. His head feels a bit sore. Perhaps he's in a coma. No, it couldn't be - his senses are too sharp for him to be comatose. There's some sort of scratching noise being made in the distance. Was it friend or foe? Weakly, he tests his voice.

"Hello?"

As if on cue, someone leans forward and flips on a small desk lamp. Darnold flinches at the sudden brightness, and after a few seconds to adjust, he looks to see what caused it. 

The table before him looks prepared for a makeshift interrogation, and not of the criminal kind - more like the kind of interrogation that features a mafia don looking for a reason to chop off your fingers. The spotlight is on Darnold. The rest - he counts three - are dimly lit; two are sat across the table, arms crossed and waiting, and there's one more leaning against a nearby wall. Their uniforms aren't coordinated. One looks like a scientist, another like a security guard, and the one sitting directly in front of him is wearing... an HEV suit. He must be hallucinating. The hazard suits were still in early development, not fit to be worn yet. How could this person be wearing one? Was this a heist?

It's then that Darnold remembers the strange troupe of people that had been lingering in and around the server room, breaking things and pretending to be repairmen. One had swallowed his keycard. They'd behaved so strangely - Darnold could barely believe it'd happened at all. Perhaps this was a dream after all. A very realistic one, with recurring characters and a plot. 

The one in the HEV suit leans forward.

"Professor," he says, "I'm afraid I wasn't being entirely honest with you the last time we spoke. Let me introduce myself again: I'm Special Agent Freeman. With me are my associates, Special Agents Coomer, Bubby and Benrey. We're here under federal instruction." 

He nudges the man next to him - the scientist - which prompts him to produce a set of credentials. Darnold only gets a quick look, but he swears the little booklet looks uncannily like a passport with the words OCCUPATION: FBI scribbled on the bottom in permanent marker. Dubious though it was, Darnold is frightened for his life. He wants nothing to do with the FBI or whoever these people were. Agent Freeman clears his throat and prepares to speak again. 

"Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?" he asks. 

"What the fuck is going on," says Darnold, ignoring him.

"Nono, _we_ ask the questions. We do," says agent Freeman, pointing between himself and agent Bubby. "Is that alright?" 

Unable to think of anything else, Darnold nods. 

"Cool, cool. So what's the deal with Wikipedia?" he asks.

Darnold stares ahead, dumbfounded and confused. That's the last question he expected to hear.

Seemingly concerned by his silence, agent Freeman snaps his fingers. "Earth to Darnold. Wikipedia. What's up with it?" 

"Is this about WikiLeaks?" says Darnold. His face has gone incredibly pale and panic-stricken. He feels like he might faint again. "Because I swear I had nothing to do with it-"

"No, uh. Not WikiLeaks," says agent Freeman. "Though another team might be asking you about that at some point. I'm just asking about _your_ connection with Wikipedia," he clarifies. "What are the servers doing here?" 

"We're just hosting it!" says Darnold, his speech suddenly very hurried. "We got it off some company - I don't know, I think they were Scandinavian - who wanted to host it here because we have the space, and, and good WiFi- it's them you want, not me!" he explains. 

"Whoa. Chill out," says the one leaning on the wall. It fills Darnold with a primal fear. Something wasn't quite right about that man.

"Easy, dude," placates agent Freeman. "OK, so you're hosting it for the Scandinavians. Did they ever mention to you that, uhhh," he trails off. Darnold watches him as he fidgets, like he's looking for the right words. "Did they ever mention the possibility that it might be alive?"

Now _that_ took the cake. 

"What? Alive?" Darnold asks. If it weren't for the way Special Agent Benrey was leering at him, he'd find the suggestion laughable. 

Agent Freeman sighs, perhaps in sympathy. "Yeah, I know. Just stay with me on this. Agent Bubby, can you present him with Exhibit A?"

Exhibit A is a picture of three men, one of which Darnold recognises as agent Freeman. He's holding a revolver in one hand and making a peace sign with the other. The other two are sitting cross-legged on the floor, each equipped with weapons of their own. He supposes that one of the men is Special Agent Coomer - the one he'd seen breaking thousands of dollars' worth of tech with his bare hands. The only person in Exhibit A he doesn't recognise is the one in the middle, a younger looking lad with a curious hat on his head. There's blood splashed across his face as he smiles at the camera, rather chillingly. Darnold can only wonder what became of him. 

"Any idea who that is?" asks agent Freeman, pointing at the peculiar man. 

Darnold confesses that he does not in fact know who that is. There's a twinge of something in agent Freeman's expression as he leans back into his seat, Exhibit A laid flat on the table. 

"What does this have to do with Wikipedia?" asks Darnold with genuine confusion. 

Agent Freeman stays silent for a second, thinking. Apparently resolved, he sets his jaw and begins to speak. "The person pictured there is Special Agent Coolatta. You may've noticed that he's not with us today, and that's because he's dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes, dead. Except, he isn't," agent Freeman continues, a dark twist in his voice. "He's been consumed by Wikipedia. Which is why the FBI has taken particular interest in your servers. Have you ever heard of superposition?"

Darnold falters at the sudden change in subject. He shakes his head mutely.

"Well, consider this." Agent Freeman holds up both hands with each of his index fingers pointed upwards. "There are two states Tommy- I mean, Special Agent Coolatta has the potential to be in. Dead," he holds up one finger, "or alive," he holds up the other. "To say that Special Agent Coolatta is experiencing superposition, then he is simultaneously in both states," he holds up both fingers, "see?"

Darnold doesn't really see, but nods anyway. He feels like a hostage forced into an eighth grade science class.

"It's only when you _measure_ Special Agent Coolatta's state that he becomes either one or the other, dead or alive. But due to the, uh, _unconventional_ nature of his disappearance, Special Agent Coolatta can be classified as neither. Wikipedia has forced him into superposition."

"But how?" Darnold asks, baffled. "Wikipedia can't, can't _eat_ people, that's-"

"That's classified," agent Freeman interjects. "All you need to know is that Wikipedia is capable of more than it lets on. So, if you have any information about Wikipedia, the servers, _anything,_ now's the time to tell us," he says. 

Darnold can't quite believe what he's hearing. Consumed by Wikipedia? Made neither dead nor alive? It didn't make any sense. He blinks around, lost for words.

"I- I really don't know anything. I was only coming in here to check the lights were off, I never interfere with this side of the building otherwise," he says, voice wavering in desperate earnestness. 

Agent Freeman turns sour. "Well, _w_ _hy_ don't you interfere? This is your company, isn't it? Aren't you in cahoots with the Wikipedia guys?"

"I'm telling you, they're just renting the space! It's an abandoned military base or something, I have no idea what they're doing with it. We just make soda, for God's sake!" Darnold wails.

Darnold collapses on the table, head in his hands and shoulders shaking. The two seated agents glance between each other, muttering under their breaths as Darnold sobs limply. 

"...nice going, Gordon, now look..." 

"...I'm sorry, alright?...carried away..." 

Darnold is interrupted from his momentary solace by a hard _thud_ against the table. He raises his head slowly, shrinking back in fear when he sees that it's agent Benrey's boot planted heavily in front of him.

"You want a piece of me?" the agent sneers. Darnold assures him that he doesn't with various pleas. 

"Get off, dude!" Agent Freeman pushes agent Benrey's boot off the table like he's a misbehaving cat. 

"But you said I could be bad cop," agent Benrey whines. 

"Yeah, only if I gave you the signal! Jesus, Benrey, switch the lights on. It's too dark in here," orders agent Freeman. 

Though the trio are a lot less intimidating with the lights on, Darnold stays rooted to his chair. He looks to agent Freeman for direction, or, preferably, to be excused from whatever this peculiar rendezvous was. Agent Freeman catches his eye and bats the others away. Darnold notes that the agent looks rather frazzled, like an overworked supply teacher. Maybe he was new to the FBI.

"Sorry, dude, I didn't quite catch that. You said you made soda?" agent Freeman asks.

"Yes," Darnold sniffs. "Didn't you know?"

"Uhh," agent Freeman scratches the side of his head, "yeah, yeah. We knew that. Just wanna hear it from you," he says.

It's a confusing instruction from someone who surely would've been briefed about the place the FBI were infiltrating, but Darnold complies. He tells them that Black Mesa was reshaped from a science facility into a soda company back in '73, when interest in soda began to dominate the sciences. The main building - where they are now - was designed for soda testing and the creation of new sodas, whereas mass production and packaging took place somewhere off-site. The popularity of Black Mesa soda had actually brought a lot of wealth and tourism to the area, transforming the arid landscape into an affluent desert oasis.

"Jesus," agent Freeman remarks. "But why would a soda company agree to host Wikipedia?"

"They are very hard to refuse," says Darnold. "And a favourable article on Wikipedia goes a long way for sales."

Agent Freeman regards him quizzically. "Anyone can edit Wikipedia, dude. Wouldn't people think it was biased if your article was unchangeable?"

Darnold laughs this time; he can't help it. "What do you mean, _a_ _nyone_ can edit Wikipedia? You're not being serious, are you?" he says.

The agents do not share in his mirth. They _are_ being serious, as it turns out.

"I- I mean, only a few select people can edit Wikipedia. I thought it was the FBI, but, uh, since you guys didn't know-"

"So it's no longer the free online encyclopaedia that anyone can edit?" agent Bubby interrupts. He looks bereft. "Is nothing sacred?"

"It's a very politicised website. Which makes me wonder if perhaps your agent friend - and I don't mean to be rude here - if he was _taken out_ , as it were, by the moderation team," Darnold suggests nervously.

"Taken out?" repeats agent Freeman.

"It's happened before. Just last week they assassinated the Estonian president," Darnold explains. "Allegedly," he adds, just in case anyone was listening. 

Agent Freeman groans and flops back in his chair, mumbling something to the extent of _Jesus fucking Christ almighty_ from behind his hand. "I guess that's why my edits didn't go through," he sighs.

"You tried to _edit_ Wikipedia?" says Darnold, eyes wide with astonishment. "Why?"

"To get a message out," says the agent. He quickly reconsiders, as if suddenly remembering his position. "I mean- it's classified. I didn't know it couldn't be edited."

Hesitantly, Darnold nods, piecing together for himself whatever was going on here. It was hard to fathom that there was a branch of the FBI that _didn't know_ about Wikipedia - it was a political-corporate kingpin in today's society. And to think agent Freeman would try to edit it without proper jurisdiction... Darnold neglects to mention that the mods tended to track activity like that. Perhaps it was best he didn't know. 

"Do we move on to plan B?" asks agent Bubby to agent Freeman.

Agent Freeman doesn't answer. He bites his nails, thinking, until an unseen voice calls to him from another part of the room.

"Gordon! I found the salt!" 

Agent Freeman sighs and goes to stand. "Hm. I guess so," he says. "Plan B it is. This way, Darnold."

* * *

"I don't understand," says Darnold after a while, "I just don't understand _why_ the FBI would be holding a seance."

Nor did Gordon, really. But he'd recently adopted the philosophy that every plan was a good plan until it failed, so as of now, holding a seance was as good a plan as any. 

Himself, the others and Darnold are sitting cross-legged on the server room floor, held together in a circle by each other's hands. Coomer, their resident expert in all things supernatural, had arranged them meticulously: under his instruction, they'd pushed the tables and chairs out of the way to create a clear space, dimmed the lights and encircled themselves in a ring of salt. (Coomer had forced Benrey to cough up the keycard so he could retrieve the salt from the kitchen, along with a Scrabble board from the break room and an empty cup). Their mission: to make contact with Tommy.

Darnold had gone along with the preparations mostly out of fear. It was obvious that he was starting to doubt the Science Team's fictitious employment under the FBI, but kept it to himself, perhaps out of intrigue. The interrogation had been a success, overall, so it didn't really matter what Darnold thought right now, but the downside to the FBI method was that the information retrieved was either unhelpful or detrimental to their scheming. 

They'd learned that with the G-Man gone, Wikipedia had changed hands. It comes as no surprise to Gordon that even in this dimension Wikipedia had some sort of tangible power, but this time it was sociological - harnessed and used for political purposes by a 'select few'. If they got no further in Black Mesa, Gordon would seek out the fabled moderation team and continue his search for Tommy with them. But that wasn't the only new problem Gordon had to contend with; his plans for using the facility for physics-based research had to be dashed because Black Mesa was now a _soda company,_ of all things. No, nothing was ever simple.

Thanks to the research done in the hours prior, Gordon was able to use his newly acquired quantum know-how during the interrogation. It came to nothing, however; Darnold was just as clueless as the rest of them. What remained was Plan B - the seance. Gordon hadn't approved of the word since it suggested that Tommy was actually dead, which none of them could be sure of yet.

The superposition argument was thus far compelling, but impossible to prove. Upon learning the theory, Coomer suggested that superpositioned entities, seeing as they were theoretically both dead and alive, could communicate with the living to some degree, so Gordon was eventually convinced into the seance. The ghostly theatrics were a bit unnecessary, though. Salt probably didn't have much influence over Tommy's capacity to communicate, but Coomer had insisted it was to ward off any uninvited spectres. 

Coomer shushes Darnold, eager to begin. He has placed the Scrabble board in the centre of the circle with the words 'YES', 'NO', 'MAYBE' and 'POG' in all four corners, written using Scrabble pieces. Gordon had objected to the last word, but the corners needed to be filled and they were running out of letters. Coomer sets the cup facedown on the board and instructs everyone to place their finger upon it. 

A picture of Tommy - 'Exhibit A', they'd called it - is placed between the board and the cup. Gordon remembers when they took that photo, though it feels so long ago. He'd been stressed out of his mind at the time, almost delirious, but the photo brings with it a sense of togetherness that he so misses now. Being together as a unit just didn't feel right without Tommy.

"Now I shall invoke the spirits," says Coomer.

"He's not a spirit," Gordon corrects him.

"Quiet," says Bubby. He has been appointed medium-in-chief. 

Next to Gordon is Benrey. He had been adamant to sit next to Gordon for some reason, planting himself between Gordon and Darnold accordingly. Benrey pats Gordon on the knee.

"Don't be scared," he says.

"I'm not!" Gordon snaps.

"I am," says Darnold from the other side of Benrey. Bubby hushes them again, and all eyes land on Coomer as he begins his ritual.

Eyes pinched shut, Coomer mutters some unintelligible nonsense. His voice gets incrementally louder, and it's really quite fascinating to watch, though Gordon wonders if he too should have his eyes shut. Eventually, Coomer's mumblings become comprehensible: 

"...come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty! Make thick my blood-"

"Hold on. Isn't that just Macbeth?" Gordon interjects.

Coomer huffs at the interruption. "Well, it worked for them, didn't it?" he says, and goes back to completing the monologue. 

Coomer asks the spirits if Tommy is among them and motions for the group to watch the cup for movement. A chilling silence envelops them all as skin begins to prickle and hairs stand on end with anticipation. Gordon closes his eyes. He doesn't believe in ghosts, but after a while he swears he can feel something behind him, something real and eerily breathing. He whips around, chilled to the bone, and-

It's Benrey blowing on his neck. 

"Stop, asshole," he hisses.

"What?" Benrey whispers back, grinning. "Gordon's scared, you guys. I think we should stop."

"I'm _not_ -"

"Shut up!" snaps Coomer. "Or you'll frighten the spirits!" 

So they stare at the cup some more, waiting for anything to happen. At one point, the cup looks like it's moving, but it's only because Benrey yawned and moved his hand a little. They wait a bit more, until Gordon makes an exasperated noise and detaches himself from the cup, scooting backwards and disturbing the salt-ring as he does so. 

"Gordon, where are you going?" Coomer calls after him.

"This isn't working," Gordon replies. "He's not a spirit, he's not dead, we're not talking to ghosts. OK? We have to think of something else, or, or," he says, though he can't quite finish. 

"Or what?" asks Bubby. 

"Or, I don't know - give up! Call it a day! Get some sleep, _eat_ something." Gordon runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. They weren't getting anywhere. They needed to regroup, or maybe even disband - Gordon had kept them long enough, hadn't he? The others were surely sick of his pointless schemes, dragging them around and putting them in danger. He wasn't cut out for this. He couldn't stop failing.

"Guys, just- just go home. I'll think of something," he sighs, dropping tiredly into the nearest chair.

Darnold watches the tenuous scene from his place on the floor. He looks between Gordon and the group, fidgeting about like he has something to say. The others talk amongst themselves quietly, probably fussing about Gordon's withering mental health. Gordon just wishes they'd leave him alone for a while, let him think about things. That was probably too much to ask, though. The Science Team never left him alone. 

In time, Darnold's fidgeting overwhelms him. 

"But isn't the answer obvious?" he blurts out. 

Gordon gives him a defeated look. "Uh, no. Or we would've done it already," he says tersely. "What answer?" 

"W-well, you said it yourself," says Darnold, adjusting his glasses awkwardly. "You have to _measure_ your friend's state for it to become one or the other." He imitates the thing Gordon had done with his hands.

Gordon sighs. "Listen, dude." He knows that Darnold's just trying to help, but can't stop himself from reacting a little wearily. It'd been a long-ass day, after all. "I know what I said, but we're talking on a quantum level here. How would we measure something like that?" he asks.

He doesn't expect Darnold to answer, but he does. "I don't know, write it down. Classify it somehow. If the answer to your conundrum is anywhere near as nonsensical as the premise, I'd do something like that," he reasons. "But I still don't know how Wikipedia fits into all this." 

Gordon's ready to brush this off as just another useless suggestion, but his mind dwells on it for longer than he intends. And, slowly, things start piecing together: superposition. Classifying states. Wikipedia. The answer was so simple it was practically genius.

"Oh my God," Gordon says to himself. "That's it. That's gotta be it! Darnold, that's brilliant!" 

"Huh?" Darnold remarks, confused by the sudden accolade.

Gordon stands up, buzzing with renewed energy, and strides over to Benrey, pulling him off the floor and taking hold of his shoulders. 

"Benrey," he says, "remember when you were editing my death into _All Dogs Go to Heaven 2?_ I need you to do it again."

"Wh-" 

"You can do that, right?" Gordon asks, searching Benrey's eyes.

Benrey gulps. "I mean. I can try," he says.

Gordon smiles. "Good. This time I want you to do it for Tommy - make him a Wikipedia article and classify him as _alive_ , got it?" he explains. By the time Benrey responds, he has already been dragged over to the luminescent green globe he'd used to edit the _All Dogs Go to Heaven 2_ article. The others crowd around the table as Benrey clambers on, arranging himself in the centre of it, legs crossed and zen. 

"Are you sure this will work?" asks Bubby. "The Wikipedia of this dimension may have different properties, Gordon." (" _Dimension,_ " Darnold mouths to himself, confused).

"I don't know for certain, but I have a good feeling," says Gordon. "So, here's hoping. You good in there, Benrey?" 

Benrey shuts eyes, hands folded over his knees. "Uh-huh. Stand back a bit," he says. The others obey, moving out of the table's immediate circumference and behind the provided metal railings. 

_Dear God please let this work,_ Gordon thinks to himself.

They watch in tense silence as Benrey works his magic, or at least seems to - it's hard to tell when he's just sitting there. Darnold looks mildly disturbed, but thinks better than to question what was happening. He could tell there was a lot hinging on this, whatever _this_ was.

Suddenly, Benrey hunches forward and tenses up like he's in pain. Gordon has never seen his expression contort in such a way. He leans over the railings to see what's wrong, only to be knocked back - the sensation is painful, like he's just hit his nose against a windowpane. What the fuck? This hadn't happened before.

"Dude, what the hell is that?" asks Gordon, rubbing his nose. 

Benrey appears to reach his limit - he unclenches and lets out a gasping breath, rocking backwards at the force of it. The space between him and the railings becomes traversable again as Gordon thrusts an experimental arm into the area.

"That shit's out of whack, bro. It's, like, pushing against me," Benrey explains, slightly breathless.

Gordon's brain stammers in a desperate attempt to unpick what's stopping them here. For a moment, he thinks he's failed again, until he remembers how quickly the mods had shot down his own edits just a few hours ago. That had to be the issue; the moderation team was blocking him.

"It's the mods," says Gordon. "They must be trying to stop you. How far did you get?"

Benrey shakes his head. "Not far, man. It disappeared as soon as I made it."

Gordon slams his hand against the railings, frustrated. He pushes back, pacing around the place for a way around this virtual roadblock. Why was nothing ever easy?

"These are vengeful mods," murmurs Coomer. He smooths a hand over his moustache, as if pondering some great knowledge. "Perhaps we could distract them," he suggests. 

Gordon snaps his fingers, pointing at Coomer approvingly. "My man. Benrey, you up for round 2?" 

"Sure," Benrey replies.

"OK, then, everyone get behind a computer. Vandalise as many articles as you can, and do it fast," Gordon orders. "Gotta give Benrey a chance to infiltrate."

But Darnold braces his hands in front of him before the group can mobilise. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can't seriously be suggesting we _vandalise_ Wikipedia," he says, wheezing with disbelief. "You could do jail time for that - or worse!"

"Darnold, c'mon," Gordon persuades. He's had enough interruptions for one day. "You can blame it on me if the cops get involved."

"So you aren't the FBI!" Darnold exclaims. 

"I'll explain later, just- please, we really need your help right now," Gordon pleads.

"Why should I?" Darnold retorts. "I don't even know who you are!"

Negotiation wasn't working, so Gordon approaches the issue from a new direction.

"Because I'll make Benrey tear this whole place apart brick by brick if you don't. And trust me, he can do that. So please just get on a computer and _help us,_ " says Gordon hurriedly. 

That seems to do the trick - Darnold begrudgingly sits behind a computer and logs on. The others follow suit, pulling up Wikipedia in preparation of their great plot. Gordon gives Benrey a thumbs up, and they begin. 

The vandalising bit is easy - the four of them pick random articles and either delete paragraphs or add random letters and numbers. Bubby has taken to writing 'Bubby waz here' on every new page while Coomer does his best impression of a piano solo with his keyboard. Darnold looks like he's going to vomit the entire time, meekly deleting random things from every page. 

The hard part looked to be was whatever Benrey was doing. After about a minute, he's hunched forward again, face twisted with concentration. And it doesn't take long for things to heat up - strange blue liquid starts to drip from his nose as he clenches harder, almost vibrating with invisible strain. It looked like the stuff that came out of his Sweet Voice. Gordon shouts over his computer to check that Benrey's OK, to which he painstakingly responds: "Ch... check... Tommy... page."

Gordon frantically searches the name _Tommy Coolatta_ into Wikipedia's search bar and to his utmost joy, the page exists. He opens it and reads the brief article aloud. 

Tommy M. Coolatta (born 19 April, 19XX - present), formally known as the online encyclopaedia _Wikipedia,_ is an employee at _Black Mesa Research Facility & Soda Manufacturers. _He is credited as the creator of _Sunkist_ (see: dog) (see: beverage). However, most notable about Coolatta is that _he is alive._

"That's it, Benrey! You did it!" Gordon yells, jumping out of his seat.

Benrey relaxes and falls backwards, nearly toppling off the table as he goes limp. There is steam coming out of his ears like an overworked tractor and blue liquid cakes his uniform in nasty splotches. Gordon rushes to his side to check his condition and is visibly alarmed by the sight. 

"Holy crap, dude, are you OK?" he asks. He sits Benrey up, wiping away various stains as Benrey staggers forward. 

"Blgh," Benrey gurgles. 

"Oh Jesus." Without turning around, Gordon snaps his fingers at the nearest person. "Somebody get us some towels!" he barks. 

Coomer and Bubby are currently occupied in their positions next to Benrey, so responsibility falls on Darnold. He scampers out of the room and down the hall. Gordon doesn't even consider the possibility that he might not come back - with the door open, he could just run out of the building and to the nearest police station - all too focussed on Benrey to be thinking about anything else. He wipes some more of the stuff away from Benrey's mouth so he doesn't swallow it. The steam from his ears is receding, which is a good sign, but as is his consciousness, which isn't at all good. Gordon shakes him, trying to keep the man in his arms awake. 

"You did it, man. Don't sleep now," says Gordon gently. 

Benrey blinks up at him.

"Feetman," he splutters. 

"Uh-huh? What's up, bud?" 

"My, mmh, my guh-"

"Your what?" Gordon encourages. Benrey is fading fast. Coomer and Bubby embrace each other tearily from across the table. "C'mon, Benrey, what is it!"

"My gamertag," Benrey chokes out. "You'll find it in the, in the drawer next to my bed. Under the scans. Add me later, we can play, uh, Mahjong Online, or something." And with that, he drifts off to sleep. 

Gordon's soft embrace turns into a firm grip.

"What," he says stonily. 

Coomer presses his ear against Benrey's blue-soaked chest. "Oh, Gordon, it's a miracle! Benrey's alive and breathing just fine!" 

"I'll bet," says Gordon. He swears he can see Benrey smirking. Gordon would get back at the asshole later for making him worry.

It's at that moment Darnold returns, pale-faced and holding a bunch of towels in one trembling hand. Gordon catches him by the wrist as he takes the towels from him and notes just how much he's shaking. 

"Dude, are you alright?" he asks.

Darnold shakes his head. Or maybe he was just generally shaking, it was hard to tell. "Gh- guh- g-"

"Gamertag?" Bubby suggets. 

"Ghosts!" he declares, pointing madly towards the server room door. "They're real! I heard one in the canteen!" he wails.

Gordon takes it in his stride. It wasn't the most surprising thing he's heard today, by any means. 

"Uh-huh," says Gordon. Using the towels, he takes a few intermittent dabs at Benrey's face and neck. "Hey, was Tommy in there by any chance? With the ghost?" he asks. He's trying not to let the fact that Tommy hadn't just materialised on the spot worry him; he had faith in this plan. Maybe they just needed to wait. 

"I-it's real, I'm telling you!" Darnold stutters. "Come and see!"

Coomer sighs wearily. "I told you not to break the salt circle, Gordon. Now the spirits are haunting poor Darnold."

"What's a few spirits in _this_ shithole?" asks Gordon, smushing the towels against Benrey's face maybe a little too roughly. "They'd liven the place up a bit, at least."

"Dost thou invite a haunting, Gordon?" asks Coomer mysteriously. 

"Huh? Whatever, man. Let's just go see," Gordon decides.

He hoists Benrey onto his back, worried that leaving him behind would split the team up even more if this ghost hunt came to something. Darnold leads them to the canteen, shivering hard as the automated door slides open. The people who had once occupied the place were long gone now, as was the janitor - without access to a watch, Gordon reckons the time is probably close to midnight. The place is pitch black, besides the glow from the hallway, and Gordon blinks around, trying to get his eyes to adjust. 

He doesn't see anything. 

"Darnold, are you sure-"

"Shh!" Darnold hisses. "Listen to that!"

Gordon listens. 

He hears a _click,_ followed by the hum of a machine. He hears the sound of liquid being poured. 

"What the," Gordon mutters to himself. 

"I told you!" whispers Darnold.

Gordon motions for everyone to get low, out of sight, and leads them further into the canteen. They press against the wall discreetly, keeping their footsteps soft. Gordon is surprised at how sneaky he can be even with Benrey weighing down on his back. 

He strains his ears. The string of noises continue, _click, whirr, pshhh._ As he listens harder, he hears something new. It sounds like someone sniffing - crying, even, and trying to be quiet about it. He peers in the direction of the noise and shudders when he recognises a human figure in the darkness. Christ, maybe he _had_ invited a haunting - the last thing he wants to deal with right now is a vengeful spirit. 

"An apparition!" Coomer whispers in awe. "We'll have to appease it with a vessel. Does anyone have a vessel?" 

"What about Benrey?" Gordon suggests, only half-jokingly.

"Hey," Benrey remarks.

Gordon double-takes. "So you're awake! Ugh, get off me, dude. You're heavy," he hisses, sliding Benrey off his back and onto the floor.

"I busted my ass for you, and this is how you treat me." He wobbles to his feet. "C'mon bruh. DansGame."

"What does that even mean," Gordon mutters. 

The sniffing doesn't let up, and as they creep closer, the noise becomes more akin to whimpering. It sends a chill down Gordon's spine. Darnold looks petrified. Coomer is the only person in the room who's mildly excited by the proceedings. 

Gordon runs his hand along the wall until he hits the light. When he finds it, he turns to the others to whisper a few hurried instructions, de facto leader style. 

"I'll hit the switch on the count of three. If it's a ghost, we run. If it's not a ghost, then we, uh, do something else. Got it?"

"No," says Bubby.

"Good," says Gordon, oblivious. "One, two..."

By the third count, the lights blink on. They had only just gotten accustomed to dark, so the light blinds them briefly, and they each take a second to rub their bleary eyes. With sight regained, Gordon gets a good look at the apparition, ghost, spirit - whatever it is.

Except, it's nothing like that. 

It's Tommy.


	9. Chapter 9

Tommy is hunched over the coffee machine, holding a mug that has the words 'Bad Motherfucker' written on it. He presses it against the dispenser every couple of seconds, chugging great sips of black coffee like water until the mug is empty, at which point he puts it back under the dispenser and repeats the process. Tears are rolling down his face with every shaky sip. Tommy doesn't quite understand that coffee should be drunk in moderation, but it gives him a headache when he stops, so he's stuck in a loop of coffee drinking and crying. 

He'd woken up only a few minutes ago. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened, or how he got here, or where he was, but he's glad of the new environment - the only thing that he can truly remember is darkness, cold, infinite darkness, and a lifetime's worth of trivia he had no use for. While he was suspended in that nothingness, Tommy had felt everything it was possible to feel and yet, at the same time, felt nothing at all. It was horrible. It was like being hit by a car, only to forget the feeling a few seconds later and have it done all over again. Horrible, horrible, horrible. 

Tommy had never really had a coherent thought before, so when he woke up and found himself able to do so, he realised he very much enjoyed thinking. So he thought long and hard about everything he liked: Sunkist, Beyblades, soda, his friends. His friends. Where were they? 

He remembers them all perfectly. Dr. Coomer and Bubby, Benrey and Gordon - the Science Team. He'd taken a particular shine to Gordon, maybe because he was the closest thing to a parent Tommy had ever had. Gordon didn't treat him like an idiot, either. He trusted Tommy (perhaps wrongly, but nevertheless) with things like guns and plots and ropes. Gordon had even named him leader of the group in the moments he felt unfit to lead. Tommy felt included in something, for the first time in his life. For that reason, he adored his friends. And he missed them greatly.

That's when the tears started. 

Tommy wasn't used to the sensation of crying - he'd never done it before, at least not in his human form - so, after wandering into a kitchen-like space, he grabs a mug and tries to catch the fluid escaping his eyes. He tries ingesting the droplets, supposing that his body might need them back, but they're too salty, so he tips the watery contents of the mug down the sink. The tears don't stop coming, though. He missed his friends so much. 

He remembers that something bad had happened. Something bad had happened to him that forced him to become subordinate to his own mind. He'd lost control and hurt his friends. All because of that stupid, stupid website. He can't even recall the name of it anymore - he'd expunged that piece of information from his mind. It's nice to know that he has the ability to forget things, but he can't forget how awful it had been.

He remembers how confused and frightened his friends were - how they'd tried to help him, only to be knocked sideways by his uncontrollable strength. He remembers that there was some sort of evil, besides himself, that his friends had confronted and tried to warn him about. Tommy's mind gets fuzzy after that, but he knows that once the evil had been vanquished, what followed was darkness. 

And now he's here. Alone, crying and drinking coffee. It tastes disgusting, but he'd seen Gordon using the coffee machine once before and was eager to capture some sense of familiarity, so he tries it for himself. His thoughts continue, but not in the painful, overwhelming way he's used to; it's more like a dull ache. Every memory he cherishes feels like a knife to the heart, but they're all he has, so he thinks, and thinks, and thinks. He thinks so hard that he doesn't even notice the lights come on. 

He thinks so hard that he doesn't notice his name being called. 

He thinks so hard that he doesn't register the hand on his shoulder, turning him around. 

And he drops his mug.

* * *

The pinwheel hat is the first thing Gordon recognises when the light switches on. He rubs his eyes again, just to be sure that this wasn't an illusion or a statue that happened to look a lot like Tommy, and when his senses prove trustworthy, he wastes no time in shouting Tommy's name. Though it comes out more like a strangled yelp - his throat is tightening, he can't help it. He's just so relieved.

When he gets no response, Gordon crosses the room and puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder. Alarmed by his lack of reaction, he turns the kid around. What he sees fills him with grief: Tommy is very obviously shaken up, his face tear-stained and fixed into one sorrowful expression. Tommy drops his coffee cup when he finally becomes aware of Gordon's presence and he stares up at him, eyes - normal, human eyes - overflowing with teary disbelief. 

"Mr. Freeman?" he gasps.

Gordon can't even bring himself to say anything, he just pulls Tommy towards him and hugs him tightly. Tommy starts sobbing. Gordon feels like he might start sobbing, too, but keeps it together, more overcome with joy than anything else. The others gather around, careful not to step on any pieces of shattered mug. They are all equally pleased to see Tommy, except Darnold, who's just confused.

"What the fuck is going on," he whispers. He gets no response. Darnold is starting to wonder if he'll ever find out - he's happy for them, though. For whatever reason.

Gordon can feel his neck getting wet from Tommy's continuous weeping, so he pulls him back, quickly scanning up and down his body for any signs of damage. That portal had looked gnarly, and he couldn't be sure if Tommy's body was fully healed like the rest were when they'd woken up in the new dimension. Thankfully, everything seems to be in order.

"Oh my God - we were so worried about you, man!" Gordon says brokenly. "When you got sucked into that portal, I thought you- God, I just. I thought the worst." He pulls Tommy into another tight hug, eager to quell the onslaught of emotions building up inside. Benrey would never let him live it down if he cried now, but he lets a few relieved tears slip discreetly.

"Wuh, what portal?" Tommy sniffs. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, wet marks already staining his collar. 

Gordon pulls back and eyes him, concerned. "You don't remember? The portal? The G-Man?" 

"Nn, no, I- only remember a few things, Mr. Freeman," says Tommy. He then falters, as if remembering something awful. "But it was bad, wasn't it? I did something bad, I think," he trembles.

"No, no, Tommy- you didn't. Trust me, you didn't do anything bad," Gordon assures him. "Everything's fine now. Is, is everything fine with you? How do you feel?" he asks.

"M'ok," says Tommy. He looks down at the floor, eyebrows knit together like he's figuring something out. "Something's different, though. My head feels different."

"That'd be the dimension switch," Bubby explains. "You've passed through the fabric of time itself, young man," he says, scruffing Tommy on the head with paternal affection. 

Tommy looks confused, and Gordon supposes that he isn't quite as informed as the rest of them. He'll explain later - he didn't want to overwhelm the kid with new information right now. All that mattered was that he was OK, safe and alive.

Tommy turns to address Coomer, his voice fraught with worry. "Oh- oh gosh, Dr. Coomer, did I hurt you? I remember, I remember that I-"

"Not to worry!" Coomer asserts. "It'll take a lot more than major head trauma and a fractured skull to stop me, dear boy. And look at me now," he says, showing himself off, "not a scratch!"

Bubby knocks on Coomer's head with his knuckles to demonstrate to Tommy that he was completely unscathed. It makes Tommy laugh, and Gordon's heart sings with relief at the sound. He never wanted to hear Tommy wailing like he'd done during his Wikipedia episode ever again. Laughing was much better.

Benrey steps forward, nudging Tommy on the arm amicably. 

"Good to have you back, bro," he says. And for once, Gordon thinks he truly means it. 

Tommy's nose wrinkles as he looks at Benrey. He prods his finger against his Black Mesa issued protective jacket, seemingly intrigued by the stains. "What's that blue stuff?"

"It's, uh, Mountain Dew. _Baja Blast_ ," says Benrey, wiping some more of it off. He catches Tommy's finger before he can put it in his mouth. "Don't eat it, though. It's not good."

"I'm real thirsty," says Tommy forlornly. He points to the coffee machine. "That stuff made me, made me all dehydrated, Mr. Freeman." 

"What, coffee? Yeah, it'll do that to you," says Gordon.

"Then why d'you drink it?"

Gordon scratches his beard. "I don't know, it's just a thing adults do. Like how you drink soda," he explains. "They've both got caffeine in them, y'know." 

Tommy looks displeased by this. "Well, I don't like it." 

"Ah, we've actually got a line of caffeine-free sodas coming out," Darnold chimes in. He coughs nervously when everyone turns around to look at him, not saying much. "Er, that is, if you want to try some," he adds.

Gordon glances at Tommy, wondering how he would react to seeing Darnold. Did he remember him from when they'd met in the past? Darnold _was_ in part responsible for creating Tommy, even if this version of Darnold had nothing to do with it, so there was no telling how Tommy would feel about the guy. Thankfully, Tommy only smiles at him, and to Gordon's surprise, lunges forward to capture the man in a firm hug. 

"Oh, Mr. Darnold! I'm so happy to see you, too!" beams Tommy, his voice muffled in Darnold's lab coat. 

"Well, um. I say," Darnold remarks, patting Tommy on the back awkwardly. 

Gordon chuckles at the two, and decides to save Darnold the trouble of prying himself out of Tommy's iron grip. 

"Do you remember what I promised you, Tommy? About the pizza?" he asks.

Tommy's face lights up, and he heels next to Gordon with the eagerness of a dog. "Chuck E. Cheese?"

"Uh-huh," says Gordon, smiling. "You guys hungry?"

"Gordon, I feel like I could eat two houses. And then one more, for dessert," says Coomer with complete honesty. 

"Good," Gordon replies, "because it's Chuck E. Cheese ahoy, boys. Get your coats."

* * *

They have to postpone the Chuck E. Cheese trip until the next day, because it's 1 AM and everywhere is closed. They opt instead for a drive-thru meal at the local McDonald's, followed by a night spent at Gordon's flat, which thankfully still exists in this dimension. Darnold parts with them when they reach the apartment building (he was the only one with a car right now, and Gordon didn't want to put him to the trouble of driving each of them home), and Tommy insists that he is invited to tomorrow's Chuck E. Cheese experience. Darnold accepts, though only because Benrey still has his keycard and refused to give it back unless he came. 

The next morning, Gordon considers the logistics of getting six grown men into a Chuck E. Cheese without looking like complete weirdos. Bubby nods along while Gordon explains his predicament, and says he'll make a few calls. 

"I know people," he states enigmatically. Inclined to agree with him, Gordon leaves him to it. 

During the car ride over, Benrey and Gordon become locked in battle as to whether or not Chuck E. Cheese is a restaurant or a family entertainment centre, and Gordon's so caught up in the argument that he almost crashes the car. Darnold is squashed in the back between Coomer and Bubby, looking frightened for his life at Gordon's hazardous driving. The others sing along to Benrey's _Vengaboys: The Greatest Hits!_ CD, ignoring the two fighting in the front. It's chaos. At some point, Darnold plugs his ears.

The Chuck E. Cheese is, as promised, practically empty. It's so quiet that it's actually eerie, and the waiting staff give the group dubious looks as they file in. Gordon doesn't give a crap, though - all that mattered was that Tommy was happy. 

It takes a while, but Darnold starts to enjoy himself about an hour into the proceedings. He has Tommy at his side, chatting avidly to him about soda. They had a shared passion for it, and Tommy is over the moon when he finds out Darnold runs a company dedicated to the art.

"You _make_ soda?" Tommy shouts excitedly. "That's so- so awesome!" 

Darnold preens, seeming to enjoy the attention. "I'll show you around, if you like," he offers.

Over at the salad bar, Gordon watches them all fondly. He wanted to keep everything like this, innocent and fun, forever, but he can't help but let his mind drift back to real world stuff. Like who Tommy was going to stay with, bills, employment... he might have to beg Darnold to give them jobs at Black Mesa. He still hadn't got round to explaining their entire situation yet, but hopefully Darnold's been shown enough evidence to take pity on them. Yeah, he could make soda. Black Mesa had sucked when it was just a research facility anyway, so it was no big loss. 

The main thing was that Tommy seemed fine - normal, even. His hazy memory of recent events prevented him from dwelling on them, and there were no signs of Wikipedia's parasitic influence lurking anywhere in his brain. His mannerisms were just as they'd always been: cheerful, curious and doubly friendly. Gordon would have to investigate further to find out what remained of his mechanical past, but for all intents and purposes, Tommy seemed like a regular guy. (Well, regular for him. His tastes didn't quite suit his 37-year-old body to the extent an onlooker might consider 'normal').

Gordon mulls over the subject again. Maybe he _didn't_ have to investigate Tommy any further - not for the moment, anyway. He might have to in the future, for the sake of science, but as of right now, he liked the kid as he was.

Lost in thought, Gordon doesn't notice Benrey sidle up to him. 

"Hey," he says, making Gordon jump a little. 

"Oh, hey," Gordon replies, turning to him. "D'you think Darnold would give us our jobs back? I'm not sure what I'm gonna do otherwise."

Benrey shrugs. "My buddy Josh says there's a spot open at GameStop if things don't work out," he says. 

"Pfft. I'm not working at GameStop, dude. Doesn't it pay, like, jack shit?" 

"Don't diss the hustle, Feetman," Benrey scolds. "What _was_ your job, anyway? Head magician?"

"Theoretical physicist," Gordon corrects him.

"That's what I said."

"No it wasn't."

"Let's get married," says Benrey, like it's the most casual thing in the world.

Gordon double-takes. "What?"

"What?"

"No, _what_ did you say," repeats Gordon. "'Let's get married'?" 

" _Married?"_ says Benrey, scandalised. "Gordon, you're moving wayy too fast for me, buddy." He walks away, victorious in a game Gordon would never understand. 

"What was that all about?" asks Bubby, appearing next to him, plate in hand. 

"No idea," says Gordon. "Something about getting married."

Bubby raises his eyebrows, but doesn't look as surprised as Gordon would like.

"What, fraudulently?" he asks. "Dr. Coomer and I were thinking of doing something like that, if our grant money doesn't come through."

"Grant money? For what? When did you discuss this?" Gordon probes, following behind Bubby as he moves across the salad bar.

Bubby sighs like Gordon should already know. "To add a quantum research wing to Black Mesa, Gordon. Don't you want to go back to your own dimension?" he says.

Gordon falters. He hadn't really thought about that - about reworking a time and/or dimension travel device and going back to 'normal', as it were. He's actually a bit hurt that Bubby hadn't run it past him, until he remembers that he and Coomer _had_ indeed tried to talk to him about something the night before, but Gordon was half asleep the entire time. He thought they were proposing plans to set up a dog sanctuary, not a quantum research wing.

"I, uh. I don't know, really," says Gordon, thinking out loud. "Have you told Darnold?" 

"Not yet," Bubby replies. "Dr. Coomer wants to butter him up first. You know, take him to a ball game, stuff like that. You and Benrey can tag along, if you want, seeing as you're an item now," he adds.

"Ugh- we're not! Hey, come back here!" Gordon shouts, but Bubby has walked away before he can hammer home the fact that Benrey and himself were in no way romantically inclined. 

Suddenly, a great _crash_ emanates throughout the building, disturbing the peaceful scene. Glass flies everywhere as a balaclava-clad SWAT team swings through the windows, forcing their way inside. Gordon ducks and covers his head - he'd been taken completely off guard. What the _fuck_ was going on now?

The SWAT team are armed to the teeth with automatic guns and various firearms. They wave them in the air threateningly to demonstrate this.

Gordon manages to get everyone to cover before they can have their faces blown off, flipping the table on its side and hiding behind it. The gunmen hold their fire, for now. Boots crunch against glass as one steps forward.

"You are surrounded," the lone gunman announces. It sounds like he's talking from within an echoing sewer, though it's likely just a low quality vocoder. "Surrender yourselves or I will give the order to fire."

"Who the fuck are they?!" Gordon hisses from behind their makeshift cover.

"I don't know, the YMCA?" says Bubby unhelpfully. 

The gunman fires a warning shot.

"Come out! Now!" he barks. 

Darnold covers his ears and rocks in place self-soothingly. He's repeating something to the extent of _oh god, oh god, oh god,_ until Gordon pulls his hands away.

"Darnold, listen-" 

"It's the Wikipedia Secret Police," sobs Darnold, returning his hands to his ears. "They've come for us, I told you they would! Oh God, oh Jesus..."

Gordon snaps his fingers. Shit. He knew he'd forgotten something. 

Coomer shakes his head. "I had much preferred it when we could wipe out these sorts of forces," he says forlornly. 

"What do we do, Mr. Freeman?" Tommy asks. 

Another shot is fired into the the table. It bursts through the wood, whizzing past Gordon face and scraping his nose in the process.

"Fuck," he breathes. 

Then, Benrey stands up. He looks over at the Wikipedia-sent gunmen with an ice cold stare that makes even Gordon a little nervous. 

"Benrey! Get down, you fucking idiot!" Gordon hisses. He pulls at Benrey's leg to no avail - Benrey simply shakes him off and steps over the table like it's a mild inconvenience. Gordon pinches his nose. This _better_ not be another double-crossing. If he finds out that Benrey had been working for Wikipedia this entire time, he'd blow a fuse. 

Mercifully, Benrey announces nothing of the sort. He confronts the gunmen with the ease of someone who fears not for his own mortality. 

"That's right. Now the rest of you, come out!" barks the Secret Police chief.

"You're being kind of loud," says Benrey.

The chief points his gun at Benrey for the insolent remark. "Huh? Say that again, pal. See what happens," he warns. 

"OK," says Benrey. "I said you're being kind of loud."

The Secret Police chief spits on the floor. 

"You son of a bitch!" he snarls. "Fire!"

Bullets fly. Blood is shed. But Benrey, predictably, doesn't give a shit - he just lets the event wash over him like a cool breeze. By the time the gunmen realise that their bullets have no effect, they've already lost: hundreds of skeletons burst through the roof, the windows, the _floor_ , likely summoned by Benrey, and encircle Benrey's attackers in threads of deadly Sweet Voice.

Tommy peeks over the lopsided table and gasps. "Look, Mr. Freeman! Blue to brown means 'you're goin' down'!" 

Benrey's victims howl in agony as they become trapped; Gordon isn't quite sure of _how_ the Sweet Voice subdues its prey, nor can he bring himself to find out. He stays ducked behind cover, eyes pinched shut and waiting for the chaos to subside. After about a minute, the last of the Wikipedia Secret Police drops to the floor, either unconscious or deceased. Gordon would guess the latter - the bodies stay completely still as he gives them a queasy once-over. And Benrey was no stranger to killing people, so it would come as no surprise.

The team emerges from their hiding place as soon as Benrey gives them the news that it's safe to come out. They crunch through bloody glass and ruined party decorations to reconvene with Benrey, the man of the hour, who is stood amongst the destruction and looking entirely bored. The skeletons fly back from whence they came, to Gordon's great pleasure - he'd never liked those things. 

Gordon takes hold of Benrey's shoulder. "Good job, dude," he says, his voice etched with strange admiration. 

"EZ clap," Benrey replies. 

"Yeah," says Gordon, smiling fondly. "EZ clap." 

"There'll be more," Darnold frets, though Gordon can tell he's buzzing with the thrill of it all. 

"That's fine," says Tommy with an apathy he'd inherited from his not-so-scientific associates. "Fuck the troops!" 

"Fuck the troops!" the rest shout in unison, laughing merrily.

Tommy looks around the place, appearing to suddenly remember something. "Hey, where's Sunkist?" he asks.

The laughter stops like a record scratch. 

And thus, another day sets on the Science Team in the ruins of a Chuck E. Cheese. Only together would they prevail against the evil forces of Wikipedia, the free online encyclopaedia that no one would ever edit again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddd it's done! weeks' worth of me banging my head against various desks trying to figure out this surreal wikipedia-based plot. I really really hope you've enjoyed reading it! It was very enjoyable to write, despite what i just said about the desks. 
> 
> The title (Mr Reality) comes from the Devo song 'Big Mess' (I heard the VA for tommy was a fan).
> 
> [I've actually got a load of inspiration songs for this fic, if anyone's interested](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5bDVuJprdAJwfzB4D3AV8v?si=CVBeLf0BRyOzZ3mDpxHEGg)
> 
> Feel free to contact me on tumblr! <https://ka-za-ka.tumblr.com/>
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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